My Darling Boy Has Come Home
by SalchanTheWitch
Summary: When the Winchesters arrive in a small New Jersey town, they get more than they bargained for when the community delivers Sam into the hands of a troubled ghost longing for her deceased son. Dean is 16, Sam is 12.
1. Prologue

**My Darling Boy Has Come Home**

**Summary:** When the Winchesters arrive in town, they get more than they bargained for when the community delivers Sam into the hands of a troubled ghost longing for her deceased son. Dean is 16, Sam is 12.

**Disclaimer: **Oh, how I wish the Winchesters were mine, but alas…

**Prologue**

Morristown, New Jersey

"Tommy? Tommy, time to come in, sweetheart."

Hattie Drexler called out to her son from the front porch of the quaint farmhouse she shared with her 12-year-old son. It was late afternoon and the temperature was dropping fast. The past few nights had been incredibly cold, freezing over the nearby lake practically overnight. Hattie knew Tommy was itching to start skating on the ice, hoping to improve his skills before hockey tryouts in a few weeks. But she wanted to let the ice harden a bit more just to be sure.

But her son was as stubborn as his father, god rest his soul, and she had a feeling that's exactly where Tommy was. Still, she told herself she was probably overreacting. She'd been told so by many of her friends. She couldn't help it. She'd only just lost her beloved husband Arthur the year before to a drunk driver and Tommy was the only thing that had held her together. But she knew how frustrated her son was with her constant mother-henning and so she decided to make a conscious effort to back off.

So here she was, keeping firm hold on the porch, willing herself not to go after Tommy. "Ten minutes," she said just aloud. "Ten minutes then I'll just casually stroll down to the lake and casually tell him dinner was ready. I can wait ten minutes."

Ten minutes wouldn't have made a difference. Ten minutes earlier, a 12-year-old boy had been testing out the ice. Ten minutes earlier the ice had cracked beneath the boy's feet. Ten minutes earlier, all one could hear was deadly silence. All one could see was a small hole 20 feet out onto the lake. And no one could see the body of a 12-year-old boy floating a few feet beyond the hole beneath the ice, ghostly white, eyes open, stone cold dead…

TBC


	2. Arrival

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own 'em … still wanna…

**Chapter One**

_Six years later.._

12-year-old Sam Winchester watched the scenery speed by from the back seat of the family '67 Impala as he, his father and older brother Dean drove down the turnpike toward their new – albeit temporary – home, just one of dozens he'd had in his life. The countryside was in full autumn bloom and Sam couldn't understand all the jokes disparaging New Jersey, the so-called "sewer of New York." It made more sense to him now why it was called the Garden State. He didn't mind that it was getting colder. At least it wasn't Minnesota which last week had already seemed to be threatening the first snow of the year.

Shifting again, Sam tried desperately to get comfortable, which was becoming increasingly difficult with his ever-changing body. He just knew he was on the verge of one hell of a growth spurt, though he was finally glad to be rid of the pudginess that had gripped him the past two years, a constant fodder for Dean's teasing. Sam could at least hope that the spurt would include some height. Then maybe he would someday be able to take Dean down in one of their daily sparring sessions. Dean certainly enjoyed rubbing Sam's constant defeats in his face. But Sam figured karma owed him big time.

Shifting once more, Sam could hear bits and pieces of the conversation in the front seat between father and eldest son. The hunt of the moment was looking to possibly be the Jersey Devil and Sam could feel Dean's excitement at potentially finding and killing such a legendary creature, if it in fact existed.

Though John Winchester would never would never openly acknowledge it effort to keep Dean in line, Sam knew he was positively beaming with pride over his eldest's enthusiasm for the "family business." He also equally knew John wished his youngest would display the same vigor. It had become an increasing strife between them and often led to some real blow-outs. Sam did what he could – after all, he was a researching machine – but he just didn't have the heart of a hunter. He enjoyed books and schoolwork and soccer and all the normal things boys his age should get to do. But he had no say in the matter. Never had. Not since fate had dealt the Winchesters a cruel hand by inviting a yellow-eyed demon to come to their Lawrence, Kansas home the night of Sam's sixth month birthday and ripping his mother from him in a violent inferno over his crib. His future had been pretty much set that night as John chose to pursue a life of hunting fueled by the desire to find the evil sonofabitch and enact his revenge. His boys were just going to have to step up and go along, no matter what other destiny life had in store for them.

Sam again looked at Dean, who occasionally glanced over the seat at him. Yep, he'd taken to hunting like a fish to water. And Sam knew it put Dean in an awkward position whenever Sam and John went at it. Sam didn't want that for Dean. He idolized the guy. Dean was his big brother, his hero. He'd practically been raised by him as John went on more and more hunts without them. But Sam couldn't help who he was and what he wanted and he knew the day would come when he'd have to make a final stand against his father and go his own way. But that wasn't today.

Sam again turned his attention to the conversation. He could hear John and Dean talking about the Devil and discussing the details from the research he himself had done. Opening up his knapsack, Sam took out the pages and began reading over what he had found.

Apparently the most popular version of the Jersey Devil legend begins in the 18th century when a woman named Deborah Smith immigrated from England to the Pine Barrens in southern New Jersey to marry a Mr. Leeds, who sought to have several heirs to carry on the family name. Consequently, his new wife was continually pregnant. After bearing twelve healthy children, Deborah was dismayed to find herself pregnant with her thirteenth. She cursed the unborn child, declaring a preference to bear the Devil's child rather than another Leeds. Apparently, her wish was granted as the new child bore cloven hooves, claws and a tail. The horrific newborn proceeded to eat the other Leeds children and the parents before escaping through the chimney to begin its reign of terror.

There are several variations of the Leeds tale, such as one claiming that when Leeds became pregnant with her thirteenth child, she remarked, "May it be a devil!" The belief that a deformed child was the work of Satan or a curse was still common during the 1800s.

John had come across some articles about missing children in the Morris County area, miles from Pine Barrens, but another part of the legend had led him to believe their may exist a connection between the disappearances and the Devil:

An important piece of the legend concerns its supposed home at the Blue Hole located near Winslow, New Jersey. According to popular folklore, the blue hole is not only bottomless but also acts as one of the many gateways to Hell. The water in the hole is abnormally cold, even during the summer months, averaging only 58 degrees Fahrenheit year-round. In addition, the hole is said to have a whirlpool effect on any person who enters it. Unlike many of the surrounding rivers and lakes in the region, the blue hole possesses crystal clear water, which serves as another one of its many eccentric features.

Sam had heard his dad mention that many of the missing children had been found in or near a nearby lake, drowned and frozen to death, even in the summer months. A shiver had gone through Sam at hearing that little tidbit. Even though he was a good swimmer, he didn't care much for cold water, especially water you couldn't see the bottom of (not that he'd ever let dean know that. Just more fuel for the teasing fire).

So here they were, on their way to check out the disappearances in the effort to discover what might be the Jersey Devil. Joy. Sam shifted again, this time with a slight grimace as his joints cracked.

"You gotta take a leak or something?"

Sam glanced back toward the front seat and found Dean looking over at him, a slight smirk on his face.

"Shut up."

"Seriously, Sammy, you keep scowling like that and your face will probably freeze like that. Then what good will you be to me? I count on that baby face and those puppy dog eyes of yours to help me out in a clinch with teachers and old ladies."

"It's Sam and I don't have a baby face."

"Just call 'em like I see' em, Sam-MY."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Alright, knock it off, you two," John finally interjected. It had been a long drive and he could tell from past experience he was going to need to give them all a little freedom from the car and soon. Debating whether to go for food or motel first, he opted for the diner they came upon first. Tomorrow he would find them a small house to rent since he figured they might be here for a while – the Devil was said to be one hell of an elusive creature – and get the boys into school.

He knew Dean would join him in hunting full time in a heartbeat but John felt he owed it to his beloved late wife Mary to see that both her boys at least graduated high school. He knew he didn't have to worry about Sam. The kid was a natural born student, his grades never slipping despite the constant moving around. And he had to give Sam credit. The kid was a researching fiend. An emotional, antagonizing, pain-in-the-behind researching fiend. But damn he loved the kid.

Sam stretched long and good as he climbed from the car and followed his dad and brother up into the diner. It was early evening and the place fairly crowded but the minute the Winchesters stepped through the door all eyes fell on them and a hush came over the room, if only for a moment. As the din began to pick up again, John led the way to a back booth, followed by dean and then Sam. Sam could feel all eyes on the place upon him and could hear people whispering to each other, though about what he couldn't make out. As he sat down a waitress came over and handed them menus, barely glancing at the two older man and addressing only Sam.

"Well, hey there, young fella. What's your name?"

"Sam."

"Well, hi there, Sam," she said with a quiet smile. Sam could swear he saw a slight glistening of moisture in her eyes. "And how old are you?"

Sam looked to his father and Dean but both had their eyes in their menus wondering what to order."

"I'll be 13 in May," he answered a little more quietly.

"Well, welcome to Morristown, Sam. What can I get you?"

After they had finished, John went up to the counter to pay as Sam and Dean made their way toward the door. Again Sam could hear whispers and feel eyes staring at him. He edged a bit closer to Dean, nudging him toward the door.

"Easy there, Pokey," said Dean with an annoying tone." "What's the big hurry?"

"Just tired," Sam lied. "Just want to get to the motel."

"Okay, keep your pantyhose on, Samantha. We'll get you to beddy-pie soon enough." But even as he teased Sam, Dean could sense that something was unnerving his little brother and stayed close to him as they made their way back to the car.

Making their way to the motel across the road, John began checking them in as Sam and Dean waited off to the side. Once again, eyes were upon Sam. He heard the clerk ask John about Sam – how old he was, how long they'd be in town, etc. John just answered casually, not noting anything strange about the inquiry.

But Sam noticed. Something very strange was going on in this town. And he had a very bad feeling about it.


	3. First Day

**Disclaimer:** Can I own them now? Darn! Can I at least play with them for a while?

**Chapter Two**

"We can't…"

"It's not right…"

"What choice do we have?!"

"There must be another way…"

"You want to wait till it comes for Justin? Or Kevin or Connor? It's only a matter of time!"

"They don't even know what's happening!"

Hugh Mitchell stood in the corner of the small meeting hall observing his friends and neighbors in their heated debate. That was the beauty and curse of small town life: word traveled fast. And word was a young boy named Sam had come to town quite possibly to save them from a seemingly never-ending reign of terror and death.

Sixteen boys. That's how many had gone missing and found dead these past six years. And Hugh had known every single one of them. Being the unofficial town facilitator – the young girls often called him Taylor Dosey (though he'd seen that Gilmore show and thought he could kick that crotchety old man's ass to the next county) – he knew just about everyone in town. And he'd had to watch families mourn sons, brothers, friends, without being able to offer a single plausible explanation for how healthy pre-teen boys could just disappear then reappear down by the lake dead and frozen solid. It was the devil's work, to be sure. And he vowed to put an end to it. But first he made sure to send his son Travis off to live with his mother and her new husband in Seattle. Damn thing wasn't gonna get his boy.

But there was hope now. This Sam kid could be the one the damn thing was searching for, trying to claim. And if it meant going against the grain and doing the wrong thing to spare his people any more pain, then so be it. But right now he had a few things to deal with.

"Hugh, please, you have to see reason here," pleaded Alice Timberman, a kindly woman of 63 who was the heart of their community. "We cannot sacrifice that boy! It's not God's way…"

"God's way?" growled Hugh, coming to the center of the room with a thunderous stride. "Was it God's way when your nephew's boy was taken? Was it God's way when Nancy lost Keith? Or when Stuart went mad searching for Billy only to find him at the water's edge where they'd fished and swam only days before? Tell me, Alice, was it?"

Alice's eyes, filled with tears and despair, turned downward. She had no answer for why this was happening to her friends – her family. She'd heard the stories, knew what people suspected and speculated about. But it couldn't be true. Ghosts didn't really exist. And Hattie couldn't possibly have…

But Alice had no answer to give. She raised her eyes to meet those of her community. All shone with the same sadness and hesitancy, but ultimately silent agreement about what would be done. What they felt had to be done to stop the madness. Stop the killing.

Heaven help them all.

SNSNSN

Despite always being the new kid and the awkwardness that ensued, Sam always harbored a little excitement for the first day of school. He couldn't help it. At school he was in his element. Learning was something he excelled at.

But this first day was different. Sam had a horrible dread in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't slept very well, his mind constantly seeing stranger upon stranger staring at him. Thankfully they hadn't needed to go to the lobby upon their return to the motel last night. And even better, he knew John would find them their own place today. Heck, he already had a lead, funny enough from the motel manager. Pretty convenient, Sam had thought to himself. He'd wanted to share his concerns with Dean but was afraid his older brother would tell him he was being such a girl and to quit worrying about everything.

It's not that he didn't think Dean cared. He knew that if Sam were truly scared, Dean would drop the bravado, put his arm around his shoulder and give him a reassuring shake with his usual "nothing bad's gonna happen to you while I'm around." Sam had no reason to doubt it now, but sucked up his qualms anyway. For now.

SNSNSN

John dropped the boys off infront of the junior high. The junior high and high schools were just next to each other and they agreed to meet back in front after school for John to pick them up. John knew Dean would take time during the day to scope out the schoolyard, study the surrounding area and all its corners, backways and escape routes so he could confidently get Sam safely to and from school from the next day on. Standard operating procedure. And Dean had it down pat.

When Sam got to his homeroom, three things happened instantly. One, the teacher nearly spat out her coffee upon seeing him (no surprise there, he was getting used to it). Two, all the kids, who a second before had been whooping it up with the latest gossip, jokes and nonsensical chit-chat, suddenly hushed and stared at him, mouths agog. Again no surprise, but nevertheless unnerving as hell. And three – the classroom had exactly two boys in it. Two out of 22 students. The rest were girls. All quiet. All staring at him.

"Alright class, settle down now," the teacher stated. Settle down? Who was she kidding? You could hear a frigging mouse's tear hit the ground in the silence! "Please welcome our new student, Sam Winchester."

She hadn't had to look at a registration card or a memo, just knew his name right off, like she'd been expecting him. That hadn't happened much before. In other schools he'd been lucky if the teacher had learned his name before they moved on again.

Sam began heading toward an empty seat near the back just as one of the boys started waving at him to head his way. As he sat, the boy leaned over, whispering "Dude, you have NO idea how glad I am to see you!"

SNSNSN

The boy, who Sam learned was named David Soboti, latched onto Sam and corralled him at lunch to two tables that beheld what was apparently the entire male youth population of the school – 11 boys. It would seem this school had its share of typical girls' cliques – the pretty, popular ones, the bookworms, the Goths, etc. – but the boys seemed to stick together regardless of size, shape, ethnicity or class stature. It was unusual to say the least seeing your standard issue nerd sitting with the class jock. And they welcomed Sam right away. Another rarity.

"So Winchester, is it?" asked Kurt (jock-boy) "How long you been in town?"

"Just got hear yesterday, actually," said Sam. "My dad didn't want me falling behind in my schoolwork so he got me in here right away."

"That sucks," Kurt with a huff. "Maybe you should think about moving on out again before you settle in."

Hmm, so much for the warm welcome, Sam thought.

"Smooth, Kurt," said another boy, Jason. "What he means is, this isn't exactly the ideal place to be if you're a guy. I mean, you had to have noticed our significantly small numbers."

"Hard to miss," Sam said with a shrug.

"Look, don't try and sugarcoat it, man," said Kurt, leaning in. "Guys our age have a funny way of ending up dead in our little burg. That's why my dad's getting us out as soon as he locks in his new job. If I were you, Winchester, I'd get the hell out before the old hag notices you've arrived."

"Old hag?" asked Sam. Now we were getting somewhere.

"Oh, it's our own little treasured ghost story," said David.

"That happens to be totally true!" broke in Kurt.

"Nobody has actually seen her, Kurt," said another boy, Lucas.

"So what, the human popsicles with nuts are just naturally occurring, is that it?"

"Why don't you just tell him the story, David," said Terry, the nerd.

Just as David was about to begin the tale, the principal, Mr. Cornig, came over and told Sam there was some paperwork he needed to fill out, check in with the school nurse for allergy alerts, etc. The story would have to wait.

SNSNSN

As expected, John was sitting in the Impala out in front of the school when Sam came out. Climbing into the back seat, he watched John twist around and ask his youngest how his first day went.

"It was okay," Sam said. The day had been pretty uneventful, though he really wanted to hear David's ghost story. "Weird thing though. You would not believe how many.."

"Chicks!" At that moment Dean had bounded into the car with a ridiculous grin on his face. "Oh man! This place is chick heaven!! Wall-to-wall, I'm not friggin kidding. Hell, even geek boy here should be able to hook up with little effort, no puppy dog eyes required!"

Sam sighed and slunk back into the seat. Leave it to Dean to see only the beauty in being oddly, almost ridiculously outnumbered by girls. As John drove them to their new home and as Dean went on and on about the "eye candy" with an occasional chuckle from his dad, Sam swore his eyes were gonna roll right out of his head.

SNSNSN

His head was pounding. As he fought to open his eyes, finding a big blur and not much else, he could smell some kind of pungent fragrance in the room, like a woman who has put on way to much perfume. Slowly his vision came into focus and he began to take in his surroundings, none of which he recognized.

He was in a bedroom, a boy's bedroom, but definitely not his own. The walls had posters of baseball players, U2 and one of Knight Rider. There were lots of toy models and sports equipment, cluttered but nothing out of place. Looked like the room had been straightened up fairly recently.

He climbed from the bed and went to the door, surprised but thankful to find it unlocked. He carefully opened it and walked slowly down the hallway. The walls were covered with photographs, both black and white and color. Many looked to be family photos, but he didn't know anyone in them.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear humming coming from down below and could smell something being cooked. He was thankful the stairs were carpeted so he could make his way down them quietly. At the bottom he found a parlor off to the left, filled with antique furniture, numerous collectible figurines and a roaring fire in the fireplace. To the right, he found a dining room complete with a table set for two. Beyond that he assumed was the kitchen door, which to his relief was closed.

He looked back to the parlor and the front door just next to it. He quietly crept up and tried unlocking it but it wouldn't budge. He looked out the window at the yard and saw nothing, no lights, no cars, nothing remotely close that could offer help.

Again looking to the parlor, he saw a phone on an end table and made his way over to it. Picking it up, he heard no dial tone.

Just then, a melodic voice called out from the kitchen.

"Sweetie? Dinner's almost ready. Come and wash up and help me with the salad."

He was completely freaked now. He did not know that voice. He did not know this house. He had absolutely no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave. He just wanted out.

The kitchen door swung open and a woman in an apron wiping her hands with a dishtowel came over to him.

"Didn't you hear me, honey? Did you wash your hands?"

He was speechless. Couldn't find his voice even if he tried. All he wanted to do was run but his feet were stuck to the floor.

"You feeling okay, baby?" she cooed as she wiped his brow. "Well, to bed early with you tonight. Can't have my darling boy coming down with the flu, what with hockey tryouts coming up."

He didn't play hockey. Couldn't skate a lick.

"You know, you look more and more like your father every day, God rest his soul."

But his dad was still alive. And everyone said he favored his mother.

"Go on now, Tommy. Go get washed up, scoot!"

Finally, he found his voice.

"But my name is David."

TBC


	4. Legend Goes

**Chapter Three**

Dean couldn't sleep. It's not that he wasn't tired. Flirting with a bevy of girls who seemed to warship the very ground he walked on simply for existing (well, that's how he saw it, anyway) takes a lot out of a guy. But there was this annoying little … knot … in the back of his mind that just wouldn't leave him alone. He trusted his instincts – whether they were inherent or carefully honed by years of training drilled into him by his father – and something was off.

What he knew for sure was something was up with Sam. Dean could tune into that kid's emotional state quicker than anyone and even though he'd been initially … distracted … by their new surroundings and even though he'd been teasing Sam a lot lately (what else are little brothers for?), he could sense Sam was bothered by this town.

Maybe it had something to do with the limited number of boys his age around. Limited number of boys, period, actually. Dean had stopped by Sam's school during lunch to check on him and saw him sitting at the only table with boys, the rest of the lunchroom riddled with girls. At the time Dean hadn't really thought much of it – chalked it up to a weird town quirk – but when he returned to his own classes he suddenly noticed that the high school had much fewer guys than girls, too, though it wasn't as vast a difference as at the junior high.

The worst, though, was at dinner, when a local news report came on reporting the disappearance of 12-year-old David Saboti. Sam had practically choked on his hot dog upon hearing it and stayed glued to the set the rest of the night. Dean and John had asked him if he'd known the boy only to have Sam shrug his shoulders and say "not really," but both men could tell it was a less-than-truthful admission.

It _was_ unusual that the boy had only been missing a few hours and yet it was all over the news and the local police had seemed to jump right on the case, 48 hours be damned. Dean figured it was because, according to the news, the town had a terrible history of like disappearances. Dean and John shared another look and John went to the computer to start some research on the area. He was still sticking to the idea it was the Jersey Devil – there were some similarities to the lesser-known hunting traits of the creature – but Dean wasn't going to rule out another possibility. And he was certainly going to keep a closer eye on his brother.

Dean looked over toward Sam's bed and listened to his brother's quiet breathing. Despite being obviously upset all evening, he seemed to be sleeping well enough. No nightmares yet, thank God. Dean was thankful for that.

He could never fully understand why Sam was constantly plagued by night terrors. He often wondered if perhaps Sam in his subconscious remembered the night their mother had died. But how could he? The kid was only six months old, for cripes sake. Dean also supposed it could be from hunting, but Sam had been on only a few and even then he had stayed safely behind in the car. John had wanted to begin exposing Sam to the realities of the job – after all, Dean hadn't been much older when he'd joined John on his first active hunt – but Dean had fought to keep Sam as untainted as possible for as long as possible and succeeded.

But maybe just being in their family was affecting Sam in his unconscious. Dean always made sure Sam knew he could come and talk to him – chick flick moments be damned – but so far Sam had rarely talked about his dreams. Never stopped him from climbing into Dean's bed for safety and comfort after a bad dream now and again.

As Dean turned his eyes back to the ceiling above, the knot began to nudge him again. _You're missing something, Winchester_, it pushed. _Okay, I get it. Tomorrow we'll start figuring this out. And we'll be sure to keep Sam in our sights as much as possible_. After all, his little brother fit the same description of the missing boys. Dean was damn certain no harm was going to come to Sam. Ever.

SNSNSN

The next morning Sam was particularly quiet and Dean decided he would try to get the kid to talk on the way to school. John had left before dawn, having found a news report online about an attack close to the Jersey Devil's suspected hunting grounds in south Jersey. John promised to try and be back before nightfall – though Dean knew his family was prone to the cliché "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans" – but promised to check in throughout the day. He also gave a stronger-than-usual instruction to Dean to watch out for Sammy and Dean responded with a very firm "Yes sir."

As the brothers walked the half-mile to school, Dean made his move.

"So kiddo, what's on that freaky mind of yours?"

Sam just shrugged, his eyes cast downward. The last thing he wanted was to see any of their neighbors staring at him, especially today. For all he knew, they'd be pissed at him for not being taken instead of one of their own.

"Don't give me that, Sammy. Talk to me."

"Just thinking about David, I guess," Sam answered quietly.

"Thought you didn't know him," Dean probed, already knowing the truth but giving Sam some berth to open up.

"I knew him as well as you can know someone in one day. He was in my classes and we had lunch together.

"I know, I saw."

"You did?"

"I popped in midday just to see what was what. Looks like you fit right in with the guys."

"Yeah, but did you notice how few guys there were to fit in with?" Sam said, looking at Dean, hoping he'd picked up on it too.

"I noticed. Kinda the same thing over at the high school, though the ratio was a little less unbalanced."

"Weird, huh?"

"I might define it as weird. What did you find online about it?"

Sam stopped in his tracks. How did he know? Sam had woken up around 1 a.m. and couldn't fall back asleep, so he'd quietly grabbed his dad's laptop, slid back under the covers and tried to do some research. He was sure he'd been quiet enough, but apparently not. "How did you…"

Been sharing a room with you your whole life, Sammy. I know when you're sleeping and when you're not. Just call me friggin' Santa."

"Oh."

"Not to mention I could see the light from the computer and hear the hum from the modem."

Sam chuckled. "Sorry."

"So what'd you find?" Dean knew that if anyone could find out more than his dad did, it would be Sam.

"Not much. The modem connection sucked and I kept getting kicked off the net. Stupid dial-up. Hope some better connection system comes along someday."

"Well, I'll leave it to my trusty Geek Boy to find out something. Maybe you could ask one of your cute little female classmates…"

"Bite me."

"Nah, bite them! But never leave teeth marks."

"Gross!"

Dean grabbed Sam in a playful headlock and the two continued on to school.

SNSNSN

To say the school population was subdued was putting it mildly. It was downright maudlin. At lunch Sam sought out the boys table again hoping to hear the story David was going to relay to him the day before. But the only boys he saw were Jason and Lucas, who sat at a table with a couple of girls, and Terry, who was sitting with Ashley, a girl in his history class. There was no sign of Kurt, so he figured Kurt's father either got his new job or was just keeping his son safely at home until he did.

Sam went to the table where Terry and Ashley sat and was greeted with sad, cordial half-smiles.

"Tell me the story," Sam said to Terry. "The one David was going to tell me yesterday."

"What story?" asked Ashley, looking to Terry.

Terry looked at her then to Sam, debating whether to relay the tale. One he wasn't sure he fully believed himself.

"It's just a story, Sam."

"I'd still like to hear it. Please." Sam knew it was making Terry uncomfortable, but he need information. Knowledge is power, after all.

Ashley suddenly knew what the boys were referring to and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Go on, Ter," she said. "He should know."

"Well," Terry began. "Story goes, there was this woman, Hattie Drexler, whose son died when he fell through the ice at Papermill Lake and got trapped underneath. She was so torn up about it – her husband had, like, drunk himself to death right before or something – anyway, she locked herself up in her house out on Richard Drive and no one ever saw her again. The town tried to get into the house to check on her but they couldn't get in. Not through any door or window. It was like, fortified or something."

"Fortified?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, like they couldn't break any of the glass. Couldn't budge any of the doors. It was crazy weird. Her friends tried calling her but it was like she just disappeared. Left town, or something without anyone knowing."

Terry took a deep breath before continuing.

"Then local kids – boys our age, the age her son was when he died – started disappearing. One day there were here, then they were just gone. The first couple of kids people thought had just run away. They had hung out together and all. But about a week after each went missing, they'd be found down by the lake, frozen solid, eyes wide open, dead."

Sam shuddered. He was definitely beginning to suspect this wasn't the doing of the Jersey Devil at all. Definitely seemed like vengeful spirit material.

Terry continued. "A local girl said that after one boy, Vince? Victor? Something like that. Anyway, after he'd gone missing she was walking past the Drexler place and saw the kid banging on the window from the inside. She told her parents who told the cops and the fire department, everyone. Suddenly the whole town went out to the house and tried everything again to force their way in. Even tried blasting the front door open with explosives. But nothing worked. Then it got even weirder."

"How?" Sam asked, thoroughly engaged in the story and mentally writing down every detail.

"A bunch of people scattered and looked in through every window on every floor and there was nothing inside. It was completely empty. Looked no one had lived there in years, if ever at all. No one had ever seen a moving truck near the place. No one had word that Drexler had left. And no one could explain how if they couldn't get into the house, how'd all the stuff get out? Worst of all, of course, was that there was absolutely no sign of the kid – Wallace! That was his name. That is until he showed up lakeside a few days later, dead as a doornail."

"So they gave up trying to get into the house?" Sam asked.

"They tried burning it down, bulldozing it, brought in a wrecking ball, nothing. Just bounced right off of the house. Freaked everyone out big time. Rather than thinking about "other" possibilities, they just said the girl had to have been seeing things, figured there was no way the house or Drexler could be involved in the disappearances and chalked it up to their little local haunt. Declared the property completely off limits and never set foot near it again. Of course the disappearances and murders didn't stop."

Sam was speechless. No wonder everyone was reacting to him the way they were. A living, non-missing 12-year-old boy was a precious commodity in this town.

"So that's our legend," concluded Terry. "Of course, nothing's ever been proven, no answers given. Mystery unsolved. Town completely freaked. Then suddenly it just stopped. There hadn't been a boy gone missing in, what, (to Ashley) like a year? People though it was finally over. That maybe the killer got bored and moved on, or satisfied whatever he was after. Until…"

"Until David," Sam said solemnly.

"Be careful, Sam," Ashley said suddenly. She'd been so quiet Sam had almost forgotten she was there. But the way she told him to beware unnerved him even more. "Just …" she paused. "Just be careful." With that she got up and left.

Sam and Terry sat in silence, Sam taking everything he'd heard in, Terry thinking about his lost friend who he knew he'd be hearing about soon enough, and not in a good way.

TBC


	5. Hattie & Tommy

**Chapter Four**

Sam thought the damn bell would never ring. When at last it did, he raced from the school building, foregoing his locker, and ran out to meet Dean who was already by the flagpole waiting for him, talking with another guy.

"Whoa, slow down there, Sammy!" said Dean, bracing himself against the potential impact should his charging brother not be able to stop in time.

"Dean, I know what's going on! I know what's causing the disappearances!"

Dean smiled awkwardly, turning to the guy, Dale, and silently wished his brother would learn a little tact instead of blurting out such bold declarations in front of strangers.

"Damn kids and their enthusiasm," he chuckled, trying to sound casual. "Dale, this is my kid brother Sam."

Giving a slight nod, it was clear Dale's interest had peaked in what the teen had just said. "Got yourself a theory about the missing kids, do you?" he queried.

"Uh," Sam stammered. _Damn, gotta learn not to blurt things out in front of strangers_, he scolded himself. _Dean's gonna kill me_.

"Samantha here credits himself a regular Nancy Drew, always thinks he's got the case solved," he said to Dale, slapping Sam on the back a little harder than usual. "Wouldn't count on the Scooby gang recruiting you just yet, there, Sherlock," chuckling a little more this time. _No way is Dale gonna buy that and let it go_, Dean thought.

"Guess not," Sam offered. _Weak, Winchester_. He was so getting his ass kicked later.

To both brothers' relief, Dale just nodded again and said he'd talk to Dean later and walked off, giving Sam one more once over.

"That was weird," Dean commented almost to himself. "Lucky, but weird. Sammy…" he began with that hardened tone that was all Dean.

"I know, I'm sorry! It's just … we gotta call dad! We gotta stop her before she kills anyone else!"

"Gotta stop who?"

"Hattie Drexler! She's the one taking the kids, I know it!"

"Sammy, just slow down, alright? Back up and tell me what the hell you're talking about."

Sam relayed the story of Hattie Drexler to Dean, being sure to punctuate every detail, and watched Dean take in and process the information.

"So do you think Hattie's a vengeful spirit?" Sam asked.

"Could be, Sam …",Dean said, trying to figure out his next move.

"So let's get Dad and go check out the house!"

"We can't, Sam. Dad's in south Jersey checking out a lead on the Devil. Joshua called last night and confirmed that some maulings in that area fit the thing's pattern so Dad went to check it out early this morning. Probably won't be home tonight."

"So what do we do?"

"We don't do anything. I'm taking you home and I'm going to go check out the house."

"Dean, you can't go there alone! What if she traps you too?" Sam blurted.

"Not gonna happen, Sammy. According to you I'm not the lady's type. You, however, are, so there's no way in hell you are going anywhere near that place."

"But …"

"No buts, Sam. I'm taking you home and locking you up right now."

Dean took hold of Sam's sleeve and began pulling him in the direction of home.

Neither boy noticed Hugh Mitchell across the street, arms folded, leaning against a tree, watching them. Nor did they see Dale walk up to him.

"Hey Dad."

"Son."

Dale looked to where his father was staring and noticed Dean and Sam walking down the street.

"You know those boys?" Hugh asked.

"Talked with the older one, Dean, a little bit. Seems cool. The kid brother …" he paused.

"What?" Hugh asked, interested in what his son had to say but never taking his eyes from Sam.

"It's just, looking at him, he …"

"I know." His father stopped him. "I noticed it, too, right away."

"Wouldn't be surprised if got taken next. He did tell his brother he thinks he knows what's happened to the missing boys. Is all excited about it, seems pretty sure, well as sure as a kid can be, I guess."

"Is that so," stated Hugh.

"Wouldn't be surprised if he's all hot and bothered over the Drexler legend. Kids always buy into that ghost crap. Hell, maybe he'll be spooked enough to get his family to leave town. All the better for him."

"All the better," Hugh said with an ominous tone he hoped his son wouldn't pick up on. He didn't want Dale to know anything about his plans. He was going to save his town one way or another, and he knew down to his bones Sam Winchester was the key.

SNSNSN

Alice paced in her living room, wringing her hands over each other. The meeting the other night hadn't gone well at all. The things Hugh was suggesting. The plans to use that innocent boy to save the town. It was too horrible to imagine.

Deep in her heart she knew Hattie couldn't be responsible for the deaths. She never knew what happened to the young woman after her son's death and it had haunted her ever since, but the thought that she could hurt any other children. And that silly story? It was just too … impossible.

She and Hattie had become fast friends when Hattie and her family had moved to Morristown 15 years before. Contactors had been working on the old Richard Drive farmhouse for months and everyone was eager to see who was moving in. On the big day came the townsfolk came out to welcome Arthur and Alice Drexler and their three-year-old son Tommy. Alice, a wizard at baking, had made them a very special cake and told the young mother her door was always open to her for anything. Hattie had the most beautiful smile and her son was a bundle of pure, infectious energy and Alice took to the young family right away.

Alice couldn't believe it when eight years later Arthur was gone, taking so cruelly by a drunk driver out on White Oak Ridge Road. The minute she'd heard the devastating news she'd gone over to Hattie's and begged her to let her in. But Hattie had just asked to be left alone and locked herself away, not leaving the house for weeks. She barely let Tommy out either. Just for school, and even then she made sure someone was with him at all times. Wanting to help Hattie, neighbors agreed to take him to and from school – only on foot, never by car – and took every opportunity to try and get her to come back out into the world. But she would have none of it. And everyone pitied the poor boy, coping with his own grief, and the toll it was taking on the 11-year-old.

Then one day something changed. It was Alice's turn to walk Tommy to school and as she came up to the porch the door opened. Out into the sunshine stepped Tommy and just behind him, his mother. She was pale and had lost a lot of weight and carried such despair in her young eyes, but she was leaving the house at last. They came down the steps and greeted Alice.

"Hattie …" said Alice, beaming.

"Hello Alice." She put her arm around her son, who looked up to her with such pride it brought tears to Alice's eyes. "Gonna take my son to school. Care to join us?"

"Absolutely!" Alice laughed. It was a true miracle and she was going to latch onto it and never let go. It was the first step to getting her friend back.

SNSNSN

The months that followed saw Hattie rejoining society more and more, smiling more with each passing day. She got her color back, put on some healthy weight (thanks to Alice's many treats) and seemed happy. She was even asked out a few times by some of the town's bachelors, and though she politely declined their invitations she was noticeably flattered. She even confided to Alice that maybe one day she'd accept.

Then that horrible fall day had come. Hattie had been so good at letting Tommy go out on his own to join friends, stay after school for sports and do other things away from her. She still wouldn't let him ride in anyone else's car, but Tommy thought it a small sacrifice to pay in exchange for his long-desired freedom from his doting, seriously overprotective mother.

That fateful day, he had told his mother he was going to go meet friends down by the lake and that he would be home for supper. As always, she had hugged him, told him to be careful and started her list of things to watch out for. He smiled when she instead stopped herself, took a breath and simply told him to have fun.

Tommy didn't like lying to his mom. But he knew it was the only way to get some alone time. She could be so suffocating! If she thought he was going to join up with friends, she was okay with it. She'd finally stopped checking up on him and his whereabouts and he was thankful. He'd waited so patiently and worked so hard to establish and solidify that trust until he knew she wasn't calling his friend's mothers to make sure he was where he said he'd be. Once he knew he was in the clear, he started taking more and more solo outings around town, his favorite spot being the lake.

Looking out at the ice, it looked just as it always did when frozen over. And it had been absolutely freezing the last few nights, so it had to be solid enough by now. He tested the first few steps with his foot, pressing down hard before moving another step out. Before he knew it, he was 20-some-feet out. Convinced all was good, he started sliding around in his sneakers. He hadn't brought his skates but he knew he'd get a few hours of practice in during the weekend. He desperately wanted to make first string on the hockey team this year and was going to work his butt off to do it.

Suddenly he stopped as he felt the ice shift – wait, did it just bob? – under him. He bounced a little and sure enough, he felt the ice give a little. He looked to shore but his heart fell when he didn't see anyone around. It was close to dinnertime and he figured everyone was back in their warm homes by now. He tentatively started making his way back to the shore, crouching down to spread his weight around a bit. But it was too late. The ice completely gave way and he fell through. The water hit him like a thousand knives and his clothes were heavy on his body. He managed to find his way back to the hole and get his head out but the cold had taken his voice and he could barely call for help. He felt his strength leaving him and couldn't stay above the water. As he sank beneath he tried to keep an eye on the hole but saw it drifting further away from him. As everything went dark, his last thoughts were of his mother. She'd never survive this, he just knew it.

"Sorry Mom," he thought as he surrendered to the darkness.

SNSNSN

At the funeral Alice knew she had probably lost Alice for good this time. She'd collapsed onto her son's casket at the grave sight and begged him not to leave her. Afterwards, she shut herself back in her house and everyone knew it would take ten miracles to get her back out.

Alice had stopped herself from going over, hating to do so. She just wanted to be there for her friend. When she finally did go over, she knocked on the door but got no answer. She looked in the windows and saw the house as it was but no sign of Hattie. She called out to her but received no answer.

She continued going over every day for the next few weeks, repeating her pleas and growing more and more worried. She didn't know what Hattie would do, if she was capable of hurting herself, and finally convinced others to come out with her. She had Jerry the locksmith come out and try to open the doors but no matter how much he tried he couldn't get the lock opened. Glancing, in the windows, people noticed that there were fewer and fewer things in the house, little things at first, then pieces of furniture, art off the walls, etc.

By the third week Alice was desperate to get in the house. The townsfolk tried to stop her but she picked up a rock and threw it at the window. It didn't break. Others tried breaking the glass but to no avail. Spooked by this unexplainable turn of events, people backed off and would not return to the house. But Alice couldn't give up that easily. That is until she returned the next day. Looking in the house once more, she found it to be completely empty. No furniture, no rugs, nothing. It was completely cleared out. Dropping down onto the porch in tears, she figured Hattie must have left in the middle of the night, tired of being bothered with everyone's pity.

Alice never returned to the house. She never saw or heard from her friend again.

But she still refused to believe Hattie had anything to do with the deaths. Not Hattie. Heck, even if she was in the afterlife, it could only be as an angel.

Alice couldn't help but think a guardian angel is what little Sam Winchester needed right now if he was going to be safe from Hugh's intentions. If she had to, she'd protect him herself. For all their souls.


	6. Drexler House

**Chapter Five**

Sam was going positively nuts. Dean had only left a half-hour ago but not before salting every door and window, hanging every sigil they had and ordering Sam not to set foot outside of the house.

Sam had desperately wanted to go to the Drexler home, not only to see if they could find evidence of the ghost but also to see if they could find any trace of David. And, of course, to watch his brother's back. Dean did so much – everything, in fact – to always protect Sam, keep him safe. It was the prime directive his father had first and foremost instilled in Dean. Sam knew, though, that John didn't have to give the order anymore. Dean just did it automatically.

Now that Sam was older and had a much firmer grasp of just how dangerous the family business was, and as he watched Dean participate on more and more hunts with their dad, Sam was developing a protective streak of his own and wanted more than anything to watch out for his big brother. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to _him_. The one who was now scoping out a place that potentially housed a vengeful, violent, completely-off-her-dead-rocker, murderous ghost.

And Sam had to wait here. Locked up, not able to help, not knowing what was going on. And he was hating every single minute of it.

SNSNSN

Dean approached the farmhouse at a cautious pace. It was getting on toward late afternoon and he knew the sun would be going down and didn't want to be here after dark. He felt worried enough leaving Sam alone even though he'd protected the house as best he could. The problem was they had no idea just how the victims were being taken. There were no eyewitness accounts. So they could have been lured physically to the house or they could have "poofed" right out of their homes. No one knew. But Dean had to choose the lesser of two evils and he figured the greater one was to bring Sam right to the house and potential ghost in question. At least he hoped it was. Either way, this would be as quick a reconnaissance mission, then immediately back home to his brother.

Dean walked up the steps to the front porch, eyes and ears at the ready for any noise or disturbance. He glanced through the front window and sure enough, the interior looked like an abandoned house, dusty and seemingly completely uninhabited. He tested the window but there was no give. Moving to the door, he tried to knob. Locked solid. He knocked on the wood, felt for any electrical static or possible ectoplasm, but there was none. He then paused and tried to "feel" if anything was out of place (feeling just a little silly doing it, too) but didn't pick up on anything.

Dean proceeded to walk around the entire property and found nothing. He sighed as he tried to think of something useful and productive to do but he had nothing. And he really hated that Sam was alone, so he decided to head back home and talk over everything with his dad when he came home.

Suddenly Dean felt that he was being watched. Strange though, the feeling didn't seem to be coming from the house but rather down toward the end of the long driveway. He didn't see anyone there and just as quick as the feeling was there it was gone again. Taking one last look up at the house, Dean made his way back home. The feeling never returned.

SNSNSN

Charlie Connors breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Winchester boy hadn't seen him spying on him out at the Drexler place. Hugh had asked him to keep an eye on the elder boy after he'd volunteered, confidently telling him he had a knack for stealth. But when he saw the boy suddenly stop his surveyance of the property and look directly his way, he couldn't have more grateful for the large bushes at the end of the driveway blocking his presence. As soon as the teen looked away again, Charlie took off and went back to report to Hugh, firmly deciding not to tell him of nearly being caught but that the kid's visit to the house had been uneventful.

SNSNSN

"It's about friggin time!" Sam pounced on Dean the minute he came through the door. "What'd you find out? Was anything there? Did you find anything connected to David?"

"Easy Sammy," Dean said, finally letting out the breath he'd been holding until he had his little brother safely back in his sights. "No, nothing happened. House was quiet. Looked just as everyone said. Locked up tight."

Sam's shoulders dropped and he let out a frustrated sigh that sounded sad at the same time. "Dean, what are we gonna do?"

Dean wished he had an answer for the kid but he was at a loss. But he put his best game face on and said "We're gonna talk to Dad. He'll know what to do. In the meantime, you hungry?"

"Hungry?" Sam said, exasperated. "How can you think about eating right now?"

"It's dinnertime, Sam. Gotta take care of the basics first and foremost, right? I promise, we'll figure this thing out. Trust me, okay?" Dean looked earnestly at Sam.

"Yeah, okay," Sam relented. He would always trust Dean. And Dean was right, if anyone would know what to do, besides Dean that is, it was his dad. Now if he would just get home…

SNSNSN

As gruesome as the scene in Wildwood, New Jersey was, John did not believe the maulings were the work of the Devil. He had also ruled out black dogs, Wendigos and werewolves. After exhausting every possible lead and speaking with Joshua's contact, John determined it was simply, tragically a bad case of wrong place, wrong time for the hikers and one seriously pissed off bear. He felt bad but was relieved that he could now head back to his boys.

He'd spoken with Dean earlier and after his eldest filled him in on the Drexler legend had tried to curb his anger when he learned his eldest had a) gone to investigate the house on his own and b) left Sam alone to do so. He knew Dean would never intentionally endanger Sam and he was proud of the hunter Dean was becoming, but he still wanted him to practice caution and use common sense. He told Dean to stay with Sam until he returned the next day, then they would look into the legend together. After an affirmed "Yes sir" from Dean, he hung up and decided to get a couple of hours sleep before beginning the long drive back north. After all, he'd be no good to his boys if he ended up in a ditch after falling asleep at the wheel.

SNSNSN

The next day Dean informed Sam that they would not be going to school and instead would wait for their dad to come home. He called the offices at each to let them know the Winchester boys would be absent, then made breakfast for them both. He knew their father was probably on the road by now and would be back that afternoon. Till then, he wasn't going to let Sam out of his sight.

The evening news the previous night offered no new information on the whereabouts of David Saboti and Sam had hit the couch cushions with a frustrated punch. Dean didn't know what to say to alleviate his brother's mood and instead tried to distract him by offering to teach him poker, something Sam had been bugging him to do for months, but Sam turned him down and said he was going to bed early. Worried, Dean let him go and later checked on him, grateful to find him sleeping undisturbed.

As Dean was finishing up dishing out the cereal and toast, he heard Sam coming down the stairs.

"What's it gonna be, Sammy, grape or strawberry jelly?" Dean called over his shoulder. As he turned around, though, he saw Sam grab the EMF meter off the front table and put it in his knapsack, along with a bag of salt and the flask of holy water.

"Whoa, Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean said, knowing that determined look on the boy's face and stilling the anger in his voice.

"What nobody else seems to be," said Sam defiantly. "I'm gonna go figure out what's going on."

"No way, Sam! There's no way in hell you are going anywhere near that house!"

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, resolve face firmly in place. "Then I'll go to the lake! That's where all the bodies turn up. There has to be some trace of the ghost there."

Dean started to protest but Sam broke in "Don't tell me it's not gonna happen, Dean, because I'm going out there with or without you. Saving people, hunting things, that's what we do, right? Always telling me how important the work we do is. That's what you and Dad are always telling me, hoping I'll get it. Well I get it, okay? And now I'm doing something about it. So are you gonna help me or not?"

Rant over, Sam stood firm, staring hard and direct at Dean, not showing any sign of caring whether Dean said yes or know. Clearly he was indeed determined to go, whatever the answer. And big brother wasn't going to stop him.

Dean turned away, threw the butter knife into the sink with a "_stupid,_ _stubborn little_…" under his breath, took a moment to breathe, gather himself, put the ol' game face back on and turned back to Sam.

"You follow my lead. Do whatever I tell you and Sam, I swear if you so much as…"

"You got it. No back talk. No questions. Following your lead all the way."

Dean sighed and strode past Sam to get his bag. _Dad is so gonna kick my ass_…

SNSNSN

Dean and Sam made their way down to the lake, Dean glancing in all directions constantly, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious or threatening. The day was warmer than it had been and people were out and about enjoying the nice weather.

At the lake, Dean made one full sweeping glance around before asking Sam for the EMF meter. He turned it on and it beeped slightly but consistently as he swept it along the shore. Sam was looking around as well, hoping to spot anything out of the ordinary, but he really didn't know what to look for. He was just hoping to find something, anything to give him an idea of what action to take to help.

Suddenly Dean felt it again. Someone watching them. This time it was much stronger and he made his way closer to Sam while looking all around the area. He was getting a very bad feeling and felt incredibly exposed. He was about to grab Sam and start heading back to the house when he heard a woman calling out to them.

"No! No, please! Please!"

Dean and Sam turned to see an older woman trotting toward them waiving her arms and calling out to them. It was Alice.

"You know her?" asked Dean.

"No," said Sam.

Dean positioned himself in front of Sam as she got nearer.

"Please! Please!"

She finally reached them and they waited for her to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, afraid the woman was going to keel over in front of them.

"Please, you have to go. Leave this place, please!"

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

But all she could do was continue her pleas.

"Go home! Go, get your father and leave, please!"

"You know something, don't you? About the missing kids." Dean said forcefully.

To Dean she said "You have to take your brother away from here. He's in terrible danger, please! Take your brother and leave!"

Dean felt Sam stiffen behind him and reached his hand out to touch Sam's sleeve reassuringly.

"In danger from whom?" Dean questioned again even more forcefully.

"Please! I can't…just go! Take him and go now! Please!" She looked back up the shore frantically, fear clearly in her eyes as they settled on one spot. Dean turned to see what she was looking at but saw nothing. As he turned back, she was already backing away.

"Wait! You have to tell me what you know!"

"Go now!" was all she could offer as she turned to run back down the beach. "Now, please!"

"TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!" Dean shouted, torn as whether to chase after her or heed her warning and get them the hell out of there. He opted for the latter.

"Cmon, Sam."

They started heading back toward home, Dean keeping Sam just ahead of him and both looking around on high alert. As they turned onto Falmouth Road, Dean saw a silver SUV down the road a bit approaching them, staying close to the curb as other cars passed it. _That's not right_, Dean thought to himself and quickened their pace. As they turned onto Short Hills Drive he spotted another car moving along in similar fashion. It was official – ghost or no ghost, someone non-supernatural was tracking them and Dean felt more exposed than ever.

"This way, Sammy!" Dean led Sam onto a back path behind one of the houses and ducked down, pulling out his cell phone.

After two rings his father picked up.

"_Dean_…"

"Dad, someone's after us."

"_What? Where are you?_"

"Just off of Short Hills Road behind one of the houses. There's an SUV and at least one other car."

"_Is Sammy with you?_"

"Yeah, he's right here," Dean said, giving a reassuring nod to Sam, who was trying very hard not to look terrified.

"_What the hell, Dean?! I told you to stay home today!_"

"Look, yell at me later, alright Dad? Right now we've got a situation!"

"_Okay. Can you get home without being out on the open streets?_"

"Yeah, I think so."

"_Okay, get home as fast as you can and keep Sammy close. I'm about two hours out. When you get there, call the police and arm yourselves till they show up, but be sure to put the guns away when they do._"

"Okay."

"_Be careful son, and call me the minute you're home._"

"Okay." Dean hung up the phone, stood up to take a quick glance around, then crouched back down.

Sam looked at him, waiting for word on their next move and trying hard to reign in his abject terror.

"Okay, Sammy. I know you're scared but it's gonna be okay. We're gonna take a little short cut back to the house. I want you to stay close to me and do everything I do." Dean reached into the bag and pulled out his .45. "You with me?"

Swallowing and steadying himself, he said "I'm with you."

"That's my boy. Let's go."

Over the next few minutes Dean had them working their way through back pathways, over fences, around dumpsters and through a veritable obstacle course in the effort to get home unseen. Making it with only a snagged shirt on one fence, Sam was keeping up brilliantly and Dean was impressed with his brother's fortitude.

At last they had the house in sight just across the street. Dean counted to three and both boys took off running. Sam had the house key out just as they reached the front door and unlocked it quickly. Both pushed through the door and Dean slammed it behind him, locking it. Each let out a panted sigh and took a moment to embrace the relief of being safe inside.

"Okay Sammy, go grab the shotgun from the kitchen and I'll call the police."

Sam went toward the kitchen. As Dean pulled out his phone he heard Sam cry out.

"SAM!" Dean charged for the kitchen but was hit from behind by something hard and stumbled to his knees, trying to clear his vision. He looked up just as a man holding Sam came out from the kitchen. Sam was struggling desperately and crying out but his voice was muffled by the handkerchief held over his mouth. As Dean tried to reorient himself, he felt hands grab him from behind and hold him. Helplessly restrained, he watched as Sam's struggles and cries lessened, falling under the effects of what Dean assumed to be chloroform.

"Let him go you sonofabitch!!" Dean cried out, pulling against his captors, his head swimming from the pain from the hit.

His heart practically broke out of his chest as he saw Sam fall limply unconscious in the arms of the man holding him.

"SAM!!" Dean cried out again, just as another hit came from behind, sending him crashing to the floor. Just before losing consciousness himself, he watched, tears in his eyes, as the man carried Sam out of the house and away to God knows what fate. And he was completely helpless to stop them.

_Sammy_…


	7. Special Delivery

**Chapter Six**

Hugh carried Sam out of the house, followed by John Clark and Alex Fosterbeck (the men who had held Dean) and down to the waiting SUV, Charlie behind the wheel. John climbed into the back seat and Hugh passed the unconscious boy to him. Closing the door, Hugh leaned into the front passenger window.

"Take him to the house but don't do anything until I get there."

With a nod, Charlie put the car in gear and drove off. Hugh had a stop to make before heading to the Drexler house.

SNSNSN

Alice was a wreck. Pacing frantically in her living room, she was wracked with guilt and fear over the events that she knew were taking place at that very moment, events she'd neglected to stop. Sure, she had warned the older brother to take Sam away, and she'd seen them take off toward their home right after, but she'd also seen Hugh off in the shadows of the nearby trees, watching them. The other men must have already been at the boys' home, waiting for them. How could she not have told them? Or gone to the police? Or taken the boys with her? _Because you're weak_, she cursed herself. Because deep down she dared to think Hugh's twisted plan might work. Did that mean she was finally starting to believe the story?

Deep down she had to admit a part of her did believe it. It made sense. All the boys taken were Tommy's age. All ended up…just like Tommy. Was Hattie just searching for her baby boy? And would she really believe Sam Winchester was him? She glanced over at the picture on her mantle from the 4th of July picnic eight years before. The one of her and the Drexler family with a few other friends. She walked closer to it and picked it up, looking at it and letting the tears fall. _Will you ever find peace, Hattie?_ She quietly asked herself. _Will you ever stop? Is this boy…_

She suddenly heard a sound at the front door. She put the picture back and quietly made her way toward the door, listening but mostly hearing her own heart thumping in her ears. She didn't hear anything else, so she cautiously moved closer. As she glanced toward the floor, she could see the shadow of movement under the door. Someone was there. She backed away and began moving as quietly as she could toward the back door. She heard another sound, and glancing back, she no longer saw the shadow. Moving back toward the foyer, she peeked out of the small window in the door and saw the mailman climbing back into his truck. She let out a breath and a relieved chuckle, then opened the door to retrieve the mail. As she reached toward the box next to the door, a large hand grabbed hold of her arm and she cried out.

"Hello Alice," said Hugh, his voice resonating in that deep, menacing way that had always unnerved her.

Alice looked up into his eyes, abject terror paralyzing her voice. As he pushed her inside and shut the door, a desperate scream could be heard.

SNSNSN

"Dean. Dean, son wake up."

Dean felt like his ears were plugged full of cotton. Scratch that. Spiked cotton that was piercing out into every direction and penetrating straight through his head in a most agonizing way. Wait, was he on the floor? He took a minute to feel around with his torso. _Yep, definitely on the floor_. But what is that shaking?

"Dean!"

Dean knew that voice. _Dad._ He struggled to open his eyes and after a moment the blur faded into clear and he saw his Dad leaning over him, worry lines more pronounced than ever. _Dad, thank God._ _Wait, did I say that out loud? Let's try that again._

"Dad."

"You with me?"

"Gimme me a minute," Dean said, as he slowly, painfully and with his dad's help made his way to a sitting position. "What happened…"

_Sammy._

"Sammy! Dad, they took Sam!" He moved a little too quickly on that one and felt himself teetering, almost tossing his proverbial cookies but swallowed them back down as John held him firm and managed to guide him up and over to the sofa, placing an icepack on his son's head.

"Take it easy. We'll get him back. Now tell me exactly what happened."

"They were here, in the house, waiting for us. God, Dad, I screwed up. Sam wanted to do something to help and you know how he gets and I figured the twerp was gonna go with or without me. I should've hogged tied him, kept him here, then they wouldn't have gotten in…" Dean teared up at the thought that his brother's ability to manipulate him may just have gotten him killed.

"Slow down, Dean. You're not gonna do your brother any good by falling apart now. Besides, by the looks of it I doubt anything would have kept them from getting in here and taking Sam. I know you. You never would have let them take him without a fight and it looks like it took two hits to take you down," John said, wincing at the bump clearly visible on his son's head.

"But they did take me down. And now they've got Sammy."

"Did you see who it was?"

"No. We ran in, I locked the door, Sam ran to get the shotgun in the kitchen, then I heard him cry out. That's when I got hit from behind. Couldn't really see straight after that, except that they drugged him. Dammit, Dad, they freakin' chloroformed the kid!"

"How many were there?"

"I think at least three. Felt like two were holding me and there was the one who had Sammy. Then they hit me again and that's it."

"How's your head?"

"Feels like Metallica's playing live at the Forum in it, but I'll be alright. We gotta get to the Drexler house. That has to be where they're taking him."

"I thought of that, but you said that according to the story no one can get in, right?"

"Yeah, Sam said it's thought to be magically sealed or something. Doesn't matter, we gotta get in there."

"I know. But we need more information, anything that can help us prepare. Is there anyone you can think of that can corroborate the legend, fill in some of the details, one of the townspeople, maybe?"

"At this point I'm thinking the whole damn town's in on it. I mean they did this in broad daylight, for crap's sake! I don't…" Rubbing his eyes and trying to close out the amp-turned up to11 drum solo pounding away in his head, it suddenly hit him. "I know someone." Pain be damned, Dean worked his way to his feet and made for the door, tilting ever so slightly but quickly recovering, John right on his heels.

SNSNSN

Hugh pulled up to the Drexler house and found the SUV waiting, Charlie, John and Alex standing next to it. Hugh walked up to the vehicle, opened the back door, pulled the still unconscious Sam into his arms and carried him toward the house.

"You really think this is gonna work?" called out Alex.

Hugh didn't respond, didn't turn around, didn't stop. Just continued on toward the front porch. He honestly didn't know what would happen when he reached the front door. No one ever knew what exactly happened when the previous boys were snatched. But he figured they all got taken inside the house somehow and if the first idea didn't work, then he'd try another. And another and another until Sam Winchester ended up in that house and that damn spook stopped taking their kids once and for all.

Climbing the steps, he started to kneel down to place Sam in front of the door when he heard it creak open. He glanced up and into the foyer, took a small glance back over his shoulder at the men who had now back upped several feet, their mouths agog, then turned back to the open doorway. He picked Sam up and carried him inside.

From the driveway, the men looked at each other, stunned. No one had seen that door so much as budge in the past six years and they had just watched it open like it was nothing. John started to make his way toward the house but Alex grabbed his sleeve with a clear "Are you insane?" look.

Just then the door opened again and Hugh walked out, stone faced and stalwart. He walked down the steps, the door shutting solidly on its own behind him, and made his way to the car.

"Hugh?" Charlie asked, hoping Hugh would fill them in on what he had seen but not daring to ask.

"It's done," was all he said before getting in his car and driving away.

SNSNSN

John and Dean pulled up to Alice's house and Dean, still a bit unsteady, ran as quick as he could manage to the front door. Prepared to kick it in and get the answers he was sure Alice had – after all, she had given them that frantic warning for a reason – he instead found the door already ajar. He waited for his father to join him before pushing the door open slowly. What they found was a disaster area. Broken lamps, overturned chairs, picture frames knocked over. As they made their way further into the house, they soon spotted Alice, unconscious on the floor and bleeding from the head.

They knelt down beside her, John feeling for a pulse.

"She's alive," he said, gently lifting to turn her over.

"Definitely looks like our guys' M.O." Dean said, gently touching his own lump.

John lifted her onto the couch just as she let out a pained moan and began to come around.

"Alice?" Dean asked as gently as he could, still determined to make her give them what they needed to find Sam.

Her eyes slowly opened and she flinched a moment before recognizing the two men. "Oh, it's you."

"Alice, where have they taken my son?" John asked. _Boy, and I thought I didn't mince words_, Dean thought.

"How did you find me?"

"Your bakery flyers are up all around town," Dean answered. "I recognized your face. Of course, we'd have been here a lot sooner if you'd bothered to stick around long enough to introduce yourself this morning in the midst of your massively freaked-out fit."

"I'm so sorry. I had to do something. I knew it wasn't enough but I had to try…" she suddenly scrunched up her eyes in pain. "I'm so sorry…"

"Where have they taken Sam?" Dean demanded.

"To Hattie. They've taken him to Hattie."

"Why?" John asked. "The other boy that's missing…do they think they can trade Sam for him?"

"You don't understand…"

"Then make us understand!" Dean cried, grabbing her shoulders. John put a hand on his wrist to tell him to back off.

"Hugh and the others believe that once Hattie has Sam, she'll stop taking other boys. She'll finally be at peace, reunited with her son."

"Why?" John asked again, trying desperately to fit the pieces together but not seeing the whole picture yet. "Why do they think Sam is the one to do that?"

Alice just closed her eyes and pointed to the mantle.

"Dean…" John nodded, telling Dean to go to the mantle. Dean went over and looked back, seeing Alice nod. He picked up the photo on the end, his eyes going wide at what he was seeing.

He guessed the boy in the photo was Tommy Drexler.

And the kid was a dead ringer for Sam.


	8. Welcome Home

**Chapter Seven**

"Hey Dad, Sammy got a long lost twin I don't know about?" Dean asked, passing the photograph to his father, who looked just as stunned as Dean had been.

"Sonofabitch."

"Do you see now?" Alice pleaded, weeping. "When I first saw your boy, I would have sworn Tommy had come back to us from the grave."

"Dammit! I should have listened to Sammy," bit Dean, kicking a nearby chair in frustration. "He told me this place creeped him out, that he felt everyone was watching him. Why didn't I trust him?" Tears welled up in the teen's eyes from the overwhelming feeling that he had once again failed his little brother.

"I missed it too, son. We'll just have to make it up to him when we get him back," John assured Dean. Dean knew conviction and certainty when he heard it, and nobody conveyed it better than John Winchester.

"Now," said John, turning back to Alice, his eyes cold and menacing. "Tell us everything, and I mean everything you know about the Drexlers, their house, this town, and tell me where I can find the bastard that took my son. And I swear, if anything happens to my son – a hangnail, a splinter, a damn sniffle – I will end you all."

Dean would swear Alice actually whimpered. And he couldn't help but smile just a little. _That's my dad._

SNSNSN

He was lying on something soft. That was Sam's first observation upon waking. That and he felt groggy, disoriented and incredibly thick. He slowly opened his eyes and began taking in his surroundings. Okay, definitely not home, he thought. He thought back on what he could remember happening. Dean and him at the lake. Crazy woman yelling at them to get out of town. Racing back home with dean. Running into the house. Going to the kitchen to get the rifle. Some big ass goon grabbing him from behind and shoving an awful-smelling cloth against his mouth. Nothing. Now here. This can't be good.

He slowly sat up, trying to reorient himself, curbing the nagging nauseous feeling and taking stock of the situation. He was in someone's living room. Someone who had a serious addiction to …stuff. There were knickknacks everywhere – figurines, frames, jewel boxes, art, furniture. Yet the room didn't seem cluttered. Everything had its place. And despite the fire in the fireplace and the warmth of the room, it had a coldness about it. A lack of …life.

He sat still and listened to see if he could hear anything from elsewhere in the house but heard nothing. _I'm think I'm alone now._ Alone, considering the circumstances, wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Alone gave him time to assess. To plan. Sure, he was scared. He didn't know what happened to Dean and he hated it. But thinking about his brother and what he would do in this situation gave him strength. He took a breath, counted to five and started going over the basics: learn about your enemy, figure out their intentions, counteract their objective.

_Boy, just once I'd like to only have algebra, pimples and what girl likes or doesn't like me to worry about._

"Knock it off, Sammy," Sam heard Dean's voice charge in his head. "Stay focused."

Okay. The enemy. Who brought him here and where exactly was here. _Well duh, that's pretty friggin obvious_. Gotta be the Drexler house. But all this stuff? Terry had said that everyone who looked inside saw an empty, abandoned house. _Looked inside, yes. __**Saw **__inside? Not necessarily_. Maybe the same magical barrier that protected the house also created some kind of glamour to mask it from prying eyes. Sam was learning more and more that a lot of things related to the supernatural just couldn't – or wouldn't – be explained.

Standing up, Sam began to tentatively explore the room. So many photos – a man and a woman, a beauty shot of a woman, an older couple, a sunset, a baby, a kid of maybe six, a boy…

_Holy crap._

What the hell was a picture of himself doing here?

Taking another look, Sam realized it wasn't in fact a picture of him but of someone who looked exactly like him. _Holy freakin' crap._

_Nice to meet you, Tommy._

It all made so much sense now. The stares, the gasps, the stunned reactions. The whole town must have thought Tommy had risen from the dead and was traveling around with this gruff family in a kick-ass Chevy (yeah, the car was bad-ass, but he'd never admit that to Dean). _Focus, Sam._ So some of them, who knows how many, hatched this little plan to deliver him here. That's what the old woman must have been warning them about. Thanks for the specifics, lady. Sam only hoped in that when they nabbed him they didn't hurt Dean. Of course, he didn't envy the serious ass-whooping they were gonna get when his dad and Dean got their hands on them. No one could unleash wrath like the Winchesters when one of them was messed with, especially Sam. He only hoped they showed up soon and got him the hell out of there. He was seriously wigging out.

Taking another deep breath to calm and center himself once more, he next wondered where the lady of the house was. She had to be here, right? Never left the house again, that's what the story said. But it's quiet. Too quiet. Stop with the inner-monologue, Winchester, and find something to defend yourself with!

Salt. There had to be salt around. It's not likely he'd find a bowl of holy water lying around. He made his way to the foyer, constantly listening for any indication Hattie was here. Moving to the dining room, he couldn't help but give the front door knob a try, but sure enough, it was locked tight. He saw a swinging door ahead and assumed it lead to the kitchen.

Sam contemplated calling out, but couldn't decide if that would help or hinder things. It could help in that he'd know where she was, hinder if she didn't appreciate him wandering around her home on his own.

He stepped up to the door and opened it slowly, happy to find it creak-free. Yep, kitchen. It had all the basics -- appliances, small table in the nook, curtains in the window, plants on the sill, cutting board next to the sink, knife block…

"Yahtzee," Sam smiled, calling on Dean's favorite version of "Eureka!"

He didn't know if a knife would do him any good against the ghost, but he did know it would make him feel a lot better having it on him. As he stepping toward the counter and reached for one, he suddenly heard glass break behind him, along with a gasp.

He spun around and found a fairly pretty woman, maybe 40 or so, staring at him with her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

"My God," she gasped, just barely a breath of sound in her voice. "Tommy? I can't believe it. You're here. You're finally home."

Sam stood in place, trying to think of what to do. Run? Scream? Throw something?

"Albert's finally brought you back to me."

_Albert?_ Thought Sam, puzzled. Wasn't that the name of her late husband? Could he have been the one taking all the boys and bringing them here to ease his wife's lingering grief?

"I knew he would! I prayed so hard for it and he promised he would!" Looking heavenward, fully crying now, she ran forward and pulled Sam into an all-consuming hug. "Thank you, Albert, my love. Thank you for bringing our baby boy back. My darling boy has come home!"


	9. Devotion

**Chapter Eight**

Albert Drexler can honestly say he had died a happy man. He'd had a successful career as the manager of a restaurant supplies company. Owned and lived in the house of his dreams. A wonderful community of good friends. And most of all, a wife and son he adored and who loved him unconditionally in return. So yes, even though he had been taken from them so cruelly and far too soon, he had no regrets. He'd led a good life.

Who knew the afterlife could be such a bitch?

The day Albert died had been a pretty good one. A few small crises to work through in shipping, an employee dispute – just business as usual. The good news was he wasn't going to have to work as late as he had been the past few nights since he was almost finished with the fourth quarter billing cycle. He looked forward to getting home to finally enjoy supper with his family.

Closing up the office, he went out, got into his car and started the 25-minute drive home. Too bad it was going to take him at least three hours via the parkway since, according to the radio, there had been a bad collision a few miles ahead, shutting down all lanes and brining traffic to a standstill. But fate was smiling on Albert because he was able to make the next exit without getting trapped in the gridlock and he knew the alternate road, having taken it before. It would be slightly out of his way but would get him home a lot faster.

He put his favorite tape in (Tommy had told him he desperately needed to upgrade to a CD player, but what would he do with his favorite tapes?) and rewound it to the beginning, Mick Jagger screaming out "Satisfaction." The road was lit well enough for a back country road and there weren't many other cars around so he pressed the accelerator down a little more than usual. He figured Hattie would hold dinner since he'd called telling her he'd be home, but didn't want her to worry.

What happened next was too damn fast to register. He came around a bend. Two headlights were heading right toward him on his side of the road, blinding him. He tried to swerve out of the way. Thought he had, too, despite feeling an incredibly powerful jolt. Then there was nothing for a little while, just whiteness.

When he came back to his senses, he was home, standing in his back yard. _How did I get here?_ He looked down and found himself in the same clothes, nothing torn or damaged. _Weird._ He stretched and moved his limbs. Nothing hurt. _Okay then. _He made his way toward the back door that led into the kitchen. There were voices coming from inside. He looked in the door and saw a bunch of his friends bustling about with all sorts of platters of food. _Huh, maybe Hattie…_he suddenly smiled. _That wonderful…_She must have arranged a surprise party for him. True it wasn't his birthday. It wasn't any kind of special day. But that was his Hattie. Always doing crazy little things like throwing totally random, no-special-occasion parties.

Not wanting to ruin her efforts, Albert wandered around to the front of the house. As he came around the corner, he saw a police car in the driveway among the other cars. _Huh, must be Harry _(a local policeman)_ coming straight from work_. _Okay then._ Albert walked up the front steps and reached for the door.

Suddenly he was in the foyer. He didn't remember opening the door or walking inside, he was just there. The he heard it. Wailing. Utter, despair-filled weeping. He walked toward the living room and saw Paula Cox, Melinda Carson, Alice Tilberman and a few other ladies all clinging around Hattie, who was…

Time seemed to stop at that very moment and everything came flashing back. The blinding headlights. Swerving the car. The bone-crunching jolt. Pain, then numbness. Sirens. Voices. Then silence.

The other car had hit him head on. He hadn't walked away from the collision. He was standing here, in his home, amongst his friends, watching them try and comfort his beloved wife in her devastating grief and inconsolable mourning.

Mourning for her dead husband, who apparently had decided to pull a Patrick Swayze.

SNSNSN

The weeks following had been miserable, downright torturous for Albert. He wasn't sure if he was staying around by his choice or some higher power's. All he knew was that while he could move from room to room with a mere blink, he could touch nothing. The room he had loved most (besides the bedroom, his and Hattie's little playground), the living room – a room filled with everything he and Hattie had collected over the years on their many outings antiquing all over New England – now felt like a prison. But not just for him.

Hattie had never recovered from that fateful night. For days and days she had wept, physically unable to stop. She could barely leave their bed. She wouldn't eat, would hardly speak. Tommy had tried to comfort her but her abject despair frightened him. Their friends had come by almost on a set rotation to help take care of Tommy, to help him deal with his own grief, while trying also to get through to Hattie.

Albert had tried everything to reach out to her. He tried talking to her, touching her, even thinking to her, but he could not make a connection. He was losing her and in turn was losing their boy. He had to do something.

One morning, after failing again to connect with her while lying next to her in their bed, he went down to find Tommy making his lunch. He had been going to school, going through the motions, but it was as if he'd shut down inside. His actions were automatic, no thought or feeling behind them. The light that had shown in him since the day he was born and had been slowly dimming since his father's death was almost extinguished. _That's it_, Albert thought. He blinked back to the bedroom and stood next to the bed where Hattie lay awake but still.

Albert looked to the picture of Him and Tommy on his nightstand. _Okay, how hard can it be? Hattie made me watch _Ghost_ a hundred times. It has to work_. He clenched his fists and tried to muster up all his emotions – good and bad – and focus them into his hands. When he felt like he would burst, he swept his hand out at the frame and was agog to see it fly off the stand and onto the floor.

Hattie shot up in the bed and gasped, staying deathly still. She looked at the frame on the floor, then around the room. Tentatively, she spoke.

"Albert?"

Albert smiled and said "Yes! Hattie, it's me!"

"Albert, are you here?"

"Yes, my love, I'm right here. I'm always right here."

Hattie smiled, tears falling down her cheeks. Albert wasn't sure if she'd heard him, but she definitely knew he was there.

"I knew you were. Everyone told me I was just missing you and that you were here in spirit, in my heart. But I knew you'd never leave me."

Sadly, that seemed to be exactly the case. "No, darling. I'll never leave you. But you have to do something for me, right now."

He again mustered up his emotions and managed to nudge the frame with his foot, moving it a few inches along the floor. _Nothing to it_, he thought proudly.

Hattie watched the frame, took a deep breath and got out of bed.

SNSNSN

Tommy was just finishing making his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich (which they had, along with a full stock of groceries courtesy of the neighbors) when he heard the door swing open behind him. There stood his mother. Dressed. Hair combed. Shoes on. And…smiling.

"Is it alright if I take my son to school today?" she asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

Tommy, bearing the smile to end all smiles, ran to his mother and embraced her, crying into her shoulder as she hugged him back. Then they walked out the front door, greeting Alice and the day.

Albert watched from the porch. _That's my girl._

SNSNSN

_Why was life so goddamned cruel?_, Albert thought, watching nearly the exact same scene he'd had to bear over a year ago all over again. Friends bustling with food in the kitchen. Other friends grouped together in the living room, surrounding his grieving wife.

But there was a distinct difference. Hattie wasn't weeping. Wasn't shedding a single tear. Hattie was gone. The woman sitting on the couch, pale, silent, was devoid of all emotion. She was a mere shell, her grief beyond all possible expression. Her family was dead. Her dear sweet husband, now her beloved baby boy. It was too much to bear, and Hattie was lost.

Even Albert could do nothing to alleviate her pain this time. Over the past year he'd become an expert in the art of being corporeal. He'd played hide-and-seek with Hattie's hairbrush, tugged on her sleeve while she was making dinner, stroked her hair as she fell asleep. And he'd seen her as happy as she could be with him not physically being there. He'd even begun to reach out to Tommy, though Hattie never completely revealed Albert's presence to him. She just assured Tommy that his father would always be with them.

Albert had even mastered leaving the house, choosing often to follow his son out into the world, watching him grow and laugh and play. He was proud of his son's accomplishments and looked forward to watching him become the fine young man he was turning into.

That day by the lake Albert had had a bad feeling. He knew Tommy was impatient to start skating but didn't feel the water was frozen enough. He tried to reach out to Tommy but found that when his emotions got away from him, so did the ability to make physical contact. All he could do was go out on the ice with Tommy and pray nothing would happen.

When Tommy fell through and became trapped under the ice, Albert joined him there, touching his son's shoulder. As he felt Tommy fade away, Albert was sure he'd heard him say "Sorry Mom." _It's okay, son, I'm here_, Albert though to Tommy. _Everything's going to be okay_.

A week later Hattie died. In her bed, alone. Not from suicide. No external instrument caused it. She just couldn't live another day. So she didn't.

SNSNSN

Albert never intended to hurt anyone. That was never his intention. He just wanted to end his wife's suffering.

The Drexler family had the ghost act down pat. Hattie's spirit lingered in the house after her death, but Albert soon realized she didn't know she had died. He believed she was aware that Tommy was gone and had resolved to "live" out the rest of her days locked up inside the house. She sealed all the windows, locked all the doors and never acknowledged it when someone came to the door. Albert watched as people stopped by, first to try and reach her, then to find out if something had happened to her. He watched as they tried to break the doors down, smash the windows, but could not enter. He finally got tired of everyone trying. He decided that if he was going to reach Hattie, he needed them to be left alone. So he willed the house to stay locked up. He even went so far as to will the inside to look empty and deserted (creating illusions was another neat little trick he'd learned while teasing Hattie last Halloween). He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew no one was getting in their home without his consent.

SNSNSN

Why did he die? I barely touched him, Albert thought, saddened at the loss of Peter Klopfenstein, the first boy he'd tried to bring home to Hattie.

After so many fruitless attempts to make contact with his late wife, Albert decided what she needed most, more than even him, was Tommy back. So he went out and found Peter walking home from school. Peter had been a bit of a loner in town. Not a trouble-maker but not an angel, either. Albert knew that if Peter went missing, people would figure he just ran away, that it had been coming for a while. And it helped that Peter looked somewhat like Tommy.

Albert believed that if he could blink in and out of the house, being in contact with someone while he did it would carry them along with him. He couldn't have been more wrong. The moment he'd touched Peter, the boy had gone stiff as a board and fallen over, dead. It was as if a higher power knew what Albert's intentions were and in having Albert be the instrument of Peter's death would scare him into never trying it again.

That was not to be. It only made Albert more determined.

SNSNSN

Three more dead boys later, Albert tried a new tactic. Luring the boys to the house and brining them inside on their own. That almost worked once with Jeremy Ackman. Jeremy had been walking home, kicking a tin can with his feet. He was stunned to find after one particular kick, the can started moving along on its own. Mesmerized, he followed the can all the way up to the front of the Drexler home. Albert opened the front door, but when Jeremy suddenly realized how incredibly freaky the exercise had been, he tore off for home. Albert headed him off, though, and Jeremy become his next victim.

SNSNSN

In the beginning Albert had brought the bodies and laid them beside the lake, sorry for taking them from their families as the icy water had taken his own son from him. Now he was just frustrated, angry and simply didn't care. He had to get a boy into their house, to Hattie.

When he followed Phillip Beeker home, his anger got the better of him and he shouted at the boy to come with him. The next thing he knew, both were in the Drexler living room. Albert was stunned but thrilled. Phillip was terrified to the bone. He'd run screaming through the house, pushing at every door and window begging to be let out. Hattie had come in at the sound of the shouting and stopped, looking at the boy in her home. "Tommy?" she had asked, not really thinking it was him but too confused to think clearly and logically. Her reaction gave Albert hope. But there had been no calming the boy down, and when Hattie gave up and went upstairs, clearly upset, Albert killed the boy, if nothing more than to shut him up.

He had the answer now, though. Anger could bring them here. And Hattie could accept them if they were enough like her boy. So he set out to find the ideal replacement.

SNSNSN

Boy after boy, test after test, getting closer all the time but never close enough.

One evening, Hattie, lying in bed, spoke to Albert for the first time.

"I know what you're trying to do, Albert."

Albert, shocked at her finally addressing him, hung onto every word.

"I appreciate it. I know Tommy is out there. You came back to me. I know he will too. And I know you'll be the one to bring him to me. Promise me you'll keep searching? Never stop trying?"

Albert's eyes filled with tears. "I promise." He reached out and for the first time since she'd dies, he was able to stroke her hair. She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

SNSNSN

Michael Hoff was nearly the one. He'd stayed relatively calm upon waking in the strange house. He'd kept a stiff upper lip when he'd encountered Hattie. Albert was aware of the legend of Drexler House that had now become an infamous little ghost story and he could tell Michael was aware of it and was trying to play along until he could escape. Hattie had taken to him quickly – he did look a good deal like Tommy – and the charade lasted a good five days. Till the boy had tried to attack Hattie after he'd had enough, had failed to find a way out or to contact help. Albert had killed him instantly, right in front of Hattie, who just looked up, saddened but quiet.

"He was almost him," she said.

"I'll keep trying, honey, I promise. I'll find him."

Hattie only turned and went back to the kitchen while Albert took Michael to the lake.

SNSNSN

Hattie was making a good effort with David Saboti, acting as if everything was as it should be, accepting the gift she knew her beloved husband was desperately trying to bestow upon her.

But Albert was ecstatic. He couldn't believe it when he'd heard the town buzzing about the new boy who'd come to town. The new boy who they would swear was little Tommy Drexler reincarnated. Wasting no time, Albert sought out this miracle child.

_My God._

_Tommy._

There he was. Mop-haired. Hazel-eyed. Dimpled smile. Light radiating from within (though a bit skittish…the townspeople weren't exactly being subtle in their reactions to him).

Sam Winchester had been delivered to him. And apparently, would be delivered to him again thanks to Hugh Mitchell. As Albert had been working on the best time to capture Sam (after dealing with David, of course), he'd overheard Hugh hatching his plan to snatch the boy himself and bring him to the Drexler home in the hopes of finally ending the reign of terror that had befallen his town.

Albert silently assured Hugh that if he made good on that intention, no other boys would be lost ever again. Hell, he'd even consider giving David back alive.

So when Hugh arrived at his front porch, an unconscious Sam in his arms, Albert did something he hadn't done in six years.

He opened the door.


	10. Cavalry

**Chapter Nine**

Dean walked down to the edge of the lake. He needed a moment alone, away. They'd called an ambulance for Alice and now his father was busy calling Caleb, Pastor Jim, any contact that would have an idea on how to breach the barrier. Dean, not one for prayers, made an exception this time and prayed someone would have something, anything to help them.

With each passing minute Dean became more and more agitated. Who knows what was happening to Sam right now. Was he awake by now? Did he know what had happened, where he was? Was he trying to be the brave little soldier he knew his father wanted him to be despite the immense danger he was in and fear he deserved to be feeling?

He didn't hear his father come up behind him but when he did Dean quickly choked back his tears and put his game face on and switching into hunter mode. But not before John caught a glimpse of his son's distress.

"Well?" Dean asked, ever hopeful.

"Bobby has a few ideas and is doing some more research. He'll get back to us as soon as he can. For now, we're on our own."

"Yeah, cause Alice was so very helpful," Dean bit.

"She told us what she could. But believe me, it was all I could do not to…" John paused, fists and teeth clenched, curbing his anger, "…for her part in all this." He looked at Dean, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Go to the house. See if you can reach Sam, talk to him, get some kind of message to him. See if he can tell you anything from his side."

"How?" Dean said harshly, no longer able to contain his frustration. "What if he's masked by that damn barrier like the interior of the house is?"

"You've got to try, Dean."

"I know," Dean sniffed, barely able to hold back the tears any longer, hating showing weakness in front of his father, the rock.

John put his hands on both of Dean's shoulders, turning to face him straight on. "I need to find Hugh Mitchell. See what he can tell us. Hell, if we have to, we'll use his head as a battering ram to break down the door." John gave his son a slight smile, hoping to alleviate the tension even a little. But all he saw in return was a look of abject horror in his son's eyes as they looked past John to somewhere down the shore.

"What…?" John asked, turning to see what Dean had caught sight of. Then he saw it, too.

A dark shape was lying by the water's edge. It was hard to make out what it was from the distance, but somehow, he knew.

Apparently so did Dean, who took off in a mad run toward the shape.

SNSNSN

Just before he reached it, Dean stopped dead in his tracks, his breath stolen from him not from the run, but from what he beheld before him. It was just as he had feared – the shape was the body of a young boy. The boy's back was to Dean, but the middle Winchester couldn't take his eyes off the shaggy brown hair, thin frame and deathly stillness. He tried to will himself forward, to see, to be sure, but he couldn't move. He just couldn't bear to see if that was his baby brother lying dead and cold at his feet.

There was no stopping the tears this time, even as John came running up beside him. John saw his son's distress and went to move on the boy, but Dean stopped him, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'll do it."

"Dean…"

"I said I'll do it!" barked Dean, not taking his eyes off the body. Kneeling down, he gently put a hand to the boy's shoulder. _Cold. So cold._ He rolled the body toward him and as the face came into view, Dean released the breath he never thought he'd breathe again.

"It's not him. "It's not Sammy," Dean cried. While he couldn't help feeling immense relief, he also couldn't ignore the incredible sadness consuming him over yet another senseless, cruel death. "It's gotta be David. Now that the ghost has Sam, she must have just…gotten rid of him."

Dean put two fingers to the boy's neck to confirm what he already knew but suddenly felt a faint pulse. "He's alive. My God, Dad, he's still alive!"

Dean looked up at his father who was already on the phone calling for another ambulance. Dean took his jacket off and wrapped it around David, pulling him into arms and holding him close to try and warm him. He began rocking him, hoping the boy would sense that he was at last safe. It's exactly what Dean would want someone to do for Sam if the situation was reversed.

"You're okay," Dean whispered soothingly. "You're safe. It's all gonna be okay."

There had to be hope for Sam now, Dean willed himself to believe. He just hoped his brother could placate the spirit of Hattie Drexler long enough for them to reach him.

_Time to break out those puppy dog eyes of yours, kiddo. Make her love you as only you can. Just hold on, Sammy. We're coming. I swear to you, we're coming._

SNSNSN

Sam thought Hattie would never stop hugging him. All the while, he couldn't help but think _Is this what a mother's love feels like?_ He'd never been hugged by his mother, not that he could remember anyway. But how much can you really hug a tiny infant anyway?

His dad and brother certainly weren't the physically affectionate type. Love was expressed in the form of a hand to the shoulder, a ruffling of the hair or, in Dean's case, a headlock and a nuggie. There hadn't been any female influences in his life, either. The Winchester club was exclusively male. So as Sam stood there embraced in a never-ending hug by a mother who believed her long dead son had magically come home to her, he couldn't help but feel it, even if just for a moment.

_Don't get sucked in, Sam_, he righted himself. _Dead woman hugging, here._

That sobered him up quick and he pulled back just as Hattie finally released him. Taking his face in her hands, she looked deep into his eyes.

"My sweet boy. Oh, you're just as beautiful as I remember, not changed one bit. You've been gone so long. Where did you go?" She stopped herself. "No, don't answer that." She wiped her tears away. "Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat? Or are you tired? Do you need to rest?"

She seemed so lost, so flustered in her elation that Sam didn't quite know how to answer. Finally, he said "I'm fine." _Keep calm, keep playing along._ Guess the townspeople knew what they were doing by bringing him here. They must have seen him as the answers to their prayers. _Yay for me_, he sarcastically cheered internally.

"Tommy?"

Sam snapped back to find Hattie staring at him, seemingly waiting for an answer to her latest question which Sam had neglected to hear.

"Sorry?"

"I said do you want something to eat?"

"Uh…" Sam thought, again not sure how to answer. He _was_ hungry and a little curious to see how and what a dead woman would fix him to eat, but common sense told him he'd better not. "I'm okay, thanks."

"Well why don't we get you settled in, then?" Hattie said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. She was surprisingly warm for a ghost and Sam decided he'd do some research into the levels of the corporeal existence of spirits…after he got the hell out of dodge, of course.

SNSNSN

Albert felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him. Sam Winchester had brought about a true, blessed miracle. His wife was happy, smiling that beautiful, genuine smile he'd missed seeing for so very long. The other boy had been returned alive, so now the town would stop bothering them and leave them in peace. Yep, all was right with the world.

Little did he know the full-on, full-fledged hell – delivered courtesy of a black 1967 Chevy Impala – that was about to be unleashed on his happy home. After all, hell hath no fury like a Winchester wronged.


	11. Out of Time

**Chapter Ten  
**

As Hattie began to lead Sam toward the stairs, he heard something. Something familiar. He paused at the base of the staircase, turning his ear toward the front door and listened. It was there. A rumbling.

The sweetest, most wonderful sound in the whole wide world.

He had to act fast. "You know what," he said, turning to Hattie, slightening his smile just a little. "I am hungry after all. Could you maybe make me something?" _Give her the eyes, Sam. _

Hattie looked confused for a moment and Sam knew he had to keep her focused on him before she herself heard the car approaching.

"Please…Mom?" Sam swallowed.

_How does he do that?_ Hattie asked herself. Albert teased her constantly about her inability to deny their son anything when he put on the puppy dog eyes, and here they were once again looking at her, melting her heart just as they always had. Hattie's smile returned and she laughed. "Never could resist those eyes. I'll go fix something right away. Manwich okay?"

"That'd be great," Sam said, smiling, sighing, filled with relief. _Guess Tommy knew that trick to_. _Maybe there is something to the power of the puppy dog look. Dean can never seem to resist it._

_Dean._

He was coming. And Dad, too. The rumbling was getting louder and Sam's heart was practically beating out of his chest. _Go to the kitchen go to the kitchen go to the kitchen_ he chanted in his head, and finally Hattie, stroking his hair once again, went into the distant room, the door swinging closed behind her.

SNSNSN

_NO NO NO!_ Albert screamed. He'd heard the rumbling approaching and prayed his wife would hear it to but she was too enraptured by her "son's" presence. _They're not taking him away. Not now, not ever!_ He reached out to grab Sam as the boy made his way to the front window but stopped himself. _No, not now!_ In his current state there was no way Albert would be able to make controlled contact with Sam without killing him and he wouldn't do that. He was too close to having his family back. _Hattie. I have to reach Hattie._ And with that he blinked out of sight.

SNSNSN

Dean drove the Impala up to the front porch and took in the entire house, looking for any sign of Sam. He hoped John would arrive soon with a plan. Maybe Hugh Mitchell did know something that would help them. He knew his father wouldn't quit until he got it out of the man. He just hoped John didn't kill him in the process. _No, Dad's a pro. He'll get what we need._

Salt shotgun in hand, Dean ran up the stairs and began looking ito the windows. At the first he saw an empty living room. Same at the second.

At the third, looking back out at him, was Sam.

SNSNSN

Sam watched the car come up the driveway. _Dean._ He watched his older brother climb out of the car and look up at the house. _Dean._ He watched his brother climb the stairs and go over to the other windows. _Dean I'm here!_ Then he saw Dean look in his window. Right at him. _DEAN!_

SNSNSN

Dean smiled. He could see Sam! There he was right in front of him just on the other side of the window, alive. "Sammy! Thank God. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Sam shook his head. Dean watched him turn to look at the door behind him, then back to him, fear in his eyes, still shaking his head.

"Is she there in the house with you?"

Sam nodded yes.

"Do you have anything to defend yourself with? Salt?"

Sam shook his head no.

"Sam, does she think you're her son?"

Sam nodded a very strong yes.

"Do you think she'd open the door for you, if you asked her to go outside?"

Sam seemed to think about that for a minute, then looked up at Dean, tears filling his eyes. A slow sad no.

Dean put his hand to the window. "Don't worry Sam. We're gonna get you out. I'm not gonna leave you, you hear me? I'm not going to leave you!"

Sam in turn put his hand up to Dean's, a few tears falling. He nodded yes.

Dean, keeping his hand to Sam's, took out his phone and speed dialed his father.

SNSNSN

John's phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw it was Dean calling.

"Dean?"

"_Dad, he's here. He's in the house. I can see him."_

"Is he okay?"

"_For now. The ghost is in there with him, but I think she's in a different part of the house. Dad, we've got to get him out of there now!"_

"I'm on my way son. Tell your brother to hold on."

He ended the call, emitting a small sigh of relief at hearing his youngest was alive but still aware of the complete danger Sam was in and still no clear idea how they would get him out. John turned to the back of the SUV he had commandeered and glared at the three men hog-tied and gagged lying across the back bed.

"If anything happens to my son, I swear to God I will be the last thing you ever see in this or any other life."

The way John Winchester looked right now – enraged, vengeful, a father who's baby son was in imminent danger thanks to them – Hugh and the others did not relish going to their graves (or wherever John would put them) with that last image in their minds. They began to shake and whimper as John slammed the hatch door down upon them.

SNSNSN

Sam wanted to cry out to Dean, but he knew Hattie would hear him. After all, he could hear the pan on the stove, drawers opening and closing, a place setting being arranged only a few feet behind him. With his hand to Dean's, he answered his brother's questions as best he could with only nods to work with. He was terrified that this would be the last contact he'd have with his family and his dad wasn't even here yet. He'd watch Dean call his father and knew he was on his way. Sam only hoped Dad had the key to get him the hell out of here. He just wanted to get out.

SNSNSN

Dean could tell Sam was about to lose it. He had to keep him calm, keep him focused, but he just didn't know how much time they had. He had no idea where the ghost was exactly, but he figured Sam did as he saw Sam glance behind him every so often at the door behind him. Looking around, Dean still could only see an empty room, but somehow he knew it wasn't the same for his brother. That Sam was seeing a completely different view from the inside. _Keep looking at me, Sammy. Keep your eyes on me. _ Dean tapped his hand against the glass as Sam again looked behind him.

SNSNSN

Hearing the tap against the glass, Sam turned back to again look at Dean. _Stay, dean, please. Don't leave me._

SNSNSN

Hattie had just put the meat in the skillet when she felt a cold wisp of air brush her neck. "Albert?" she said aloud. The draft felt different. It wasn't soft like it was at night or warm when he was being playful. This time it was more of a chill. And a desperate one at that.

"Albert what's wrong?"

Then she heard it. Quiet, breathy, almost an echo.

_Tommy…_

"What about Tommy?" Hattie, asked, her fear growing.

The voice was stronger but still too far away.

_They're going to take him…_

"What? Who? Whose going to take him?"

The voice became stronger still.

_Don't let them._

Suddenly before her, Albert appeared. She could see him. She had never been able to before but here he was, standing right before her.

"_Don't let them take our boy, Hattie."_

"Albert?" Even though she knew he had been here with them all along, to be seeing her late husband standing here before her now was unsettling. But she pushed her shock aside and listened to his desperate warning.

Albert's voice was solid now. "They'll take him away, Hattie. They'll take him and we'll never see him again. You can stop it."

"How?" Hattie pleaded.

"Tommy can be with us. We can all be together again at last. You can make that happen."

Hattie began to hear instructions in her head and listened, eyes drifting off to the side, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Yes. Uh huh." She looked into Albert's eyes with sadness but certainty. "Alright, Albert."

With that, she went to the door.

SNSNSN

Dean saw the door swing open behind Sam but saw nothing walk through it. Then it swung closed again. He watched as Sam turned, went rigid with fear, then turned back and cried out.

"DEAN!"

SNSNSN

Sam saw Dean's eyes open wide with fear just as he heard the door swing open behind him. He turned and saw Hattie looking at him, sad and…cold. He turned back to his brother and cried out to him.

"DEAN!"

"SAM!" he saw Dean yell back. Then Sam saw a man suddenly appear behind Dean.

"DEAN, BEHIND YOU!"

Suddenly Sam felt Hattie's arms around him, pulling him away from the window. Away from Dean who Sam knew was now in just as much danger as he was, if not more.

SNSNSN

Dean watched as Sam was pulled away from the window but not before he heard his brother cry out a warning for him to look behind. As Dean did, he caught just a glimpse before he felt himself struck on the right side, sending him sprawling toward the side railing.

"My family." the spirit spat, filled with anger.

"No, MINE!" Dean spat back, firing a salt-filled shell from the shotgun he'd managed to hold onto at the spirit, dissipating it immediately.

Dean got up and went back to the window but didn't see Sam. He went to the next window over in time to see Sam being pulled up the staircase by an invisible force.

"SAMMY!"

Dean kicked at the door, pounded on it, rammed it with his shoulder but it wouldn't budge. Looking around, his eyes fell upon the car. The car he treasured, loved and hoped would be his one day but for right now the car he hoped would get him past the barrier and to his brother.

Dean climbed behind the wheel of the Impala, started the engine and backed it up the driveway. Shifting into drive, he revved the engine, clasped the steering wheel hard and released the brake, driving the car full speed toward the house – his beautiful, black battering ram.

_This is gonna hurt…_

As Dean prepared for the impact, the car's engine suddenly died and it came rolling to a harmless stop before the front porch.

"DAMMIT!" dean shouted, hitting the steering wheel. He climbed out and ran tot the trunk, grabbing his father's axe. Just then he heard another vehicle coming up the driveway. A silver SUV.

As the car pulled up next to Dean, Dean ran back to the house, shouting at his father.

"Dad! Sammy's in trouble!"

John ran to the Impala, grabbing a second axe and running to the back of the house to work on the other door.

They had just run out of time.


	12. Save Me

**Chapter Eleven  
**

Sam struggled desperately against Hattie's hold but she was too strong. She just continued to pull him up the stairs. From down below he could hear the sounds of something being slammed against the door. Dad and Dean were trying to get to him. He needed to give them more time.

"Mrs. Drexler, please don't do this! Please let me go. Don't hurt me, please!"

"It's going to be all right, Tommy, I promise." Hattie cried. "We'll be together for ever. Nothing will ever separate us again."

Sam continued to plead and struggle, trying anything and everything to get her to release him.

Hattie dragged Sam to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Pushing the door open, Sam went into a full panic when he saw the white porcelain antique bathtub begin to fill with water on its own. His struggles increased as he suddenly realized what Hattie was about to do.

"No, Please! I'll stay with you! Forever! I'll never leave, I promise! Just don't kill me, please!" he begged.

Hattie held Sam close to her, her face on the top of his head, taking in the smell of his hair and shushing him quietly. "Shhh, it'll be over quickly, baby, I promise. It won't hurt. And I'll be right behind you. Right behind you. Then you, me and Daddy will be together."

"NO!!" Sam begged, crying. "Please, I don't want to die! You're already dead, don't you know that!! I'm not Tommy, please! I want to go home! Dad!! Dean, help me!!"

Hattie began pulling Sam toward the tub, now filled with ice cold water.

SNSNSN

"SAM!!" Dead cried out, hitting the axe against the door again and again, making deep cut marks but no holes.

John was finding the same results and began chopping at the windows and even the outer walls to no avail. His son was in dire trouble and he had never felt more helpless. "Don't you hurt my son, you bitch!!" he screamed.

SNSNSN

Dean went back to the window to look inside and jumped back when he saw Sam standing before him once again.

_No, not Sam._

_Tommy._

Dean stared at the little boy spirit looking back at him, sadness in his eyes.

"Please," Dean pleaded. "Please help my brother. Don't let them hurt him."

Tommy flickered but remained at the window, staring at Dean.

SNSNSN

Hattie nearly had Sam to the tub and as she was about to push him in he tried once last desperate plea.

"Mommy, please!"

Hattie stopped. Still holding Sam firmly in her grip, she turned him toward her and looked into his eyes, tears in her own.

_Yahtzee!_ Sam had one chance. "Please Mommy," he whispered. If ever he needed those puppy dog eyes to work, it was now. "Please don't hurt me."

Hattie cried. "Oh, baby, I could never hurt you. Never!" She took him into her arms, hugging him close. Sam dared to breathe, hoping he'd reached her.

Over by the door Hattie saw Albert.

"You have to do this, Hattie."

"I can't! I can't do it, Albert."

"They'll take him from us. We'll never see him again."

"Albert, please…"

"You have to, my darling. For our family."

Hattie's breath caught in her throat. "Our family." A cold quiet came over her and Sam sensed she had turned once again. He tried to take advantage of her loosened grip but she took strong hold of him and lifted him into the tub, pushing his head beneath the freezing cold water.

SNSNSN

"Please," Dean begged, so desperate and afraid he thought it would consume him whole. "Don't let my brother die. They're your parents. You can stop them. Please."

Tommy flickered again, then disappeared. Dean for a second couldn't move, waiting for some sign Tommy was going to help him.

SNSNSN

Sam couldn't breathe, a combination of the coldness of the water and being held beneath it. Is this how Tommy felt that day, under the ice? Sam struggled and kicked and clawed but nothing made Hattie release him from the water. And he couldn't hold his breath much longer.

SNSNSN

Hattie closed her eyes as she held her baby under the water, his struggles literally killing her soul. _Not much longer_, she heard Albert's voice in her head. _It will all be over soon. Then we'll be together._

As the struggling lessened, she dared to look. She screamed when beneath the water, staring right at her, was the face of her true son.

_Stop this, Mom,_ she heard Tommy say as he stared up at her. _This isn't right._

Hattie was paralyzed with fear. The splashing had stopped. The boy in her grasp no longer kicked and pushed against her. As she took another look down into the tub, she saw the still form of a boy who was clearly not her son. A boy she didn't know. An innocent boy realized she had just drowned with her own two hands.

"NO!" she screamed, falling back on the floor and pushing with her legs to scramble away from the tub. "What have I done?" she cried. Lifting her eyes, she looked up at the face of her beloved son standing before her.

"Tommy?" The spirit of Tommy Drexler turned to face his father who looked at him with abject shock. "Is it really you, son?"

Tommy flickered once more, still looking so sad.

Albert lowered his eyes to the floor, overwhelmed by sudden and consuming guilt. He tentatively raised his eyes to look at the tub across the room, from which came absolutely no movement.

SNSNSN

Dean went to raise the axe again when the front door suddenly opened. With a gasp, Dean dropped the axe, picked up the shotgun and ran inside and up the stairs, screaming for his brother.

SNSNSN

John was in mid swing when the back door suddenly opened quietly. Taken aback, he dropped his axe and ran inside, screaming for his son.

SNSNSN

Dean reached the top of the stairs and saw the white bathroom at the end of the hall, Albert Drexler standing in the doorway. Dean fired a shell and Albert dissipated once more.

As Dean reached the room, he saw Tommy standing before his mother, who was weeping uncontrollably in the corner, saying over and over "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

That's when Dean saw the tub and the boy floating in it.

"SAMMY!!"

Dean ran to the tub and grabbed his little brother into his arms and pulled him from the water. God, he was so cold and still.

"No, Sammy, please! Please, no…" Dean wept, sweeping the boy's wet hair from his face, willing him to wake up. "Breathe, Sammy. Breathe for me, please!"

John arrived at that moment, devastated by the scene before him. His oldest was cradling his youngest, completely drenched, pale and unmoving in his arms, weeping and pleading for him to breathe.

John picked up the shotgun Dean had dropped and pointed it at Hattie, even though she made no attempt to move. Tommy stood protectively before her.

"Dean, take your brother outside right now!" John yelled to Dean, who continued rocking Sam but looked back to his father, his face wet with tears.

"Now Dean, go!"

Dean picked Sam up in his arms and carried him out of the bathroom, down the hallway to the stairs and out the front door.

John still pointed the shotgun at Hattie and Tommy when the boy pointed back at him. No, not at him – past him. John turned to look at the room right next to the bathroom, then back at Tommy, who flickered again.

John backed up slowly, still aiming, still on alert. He pushed the door to the room open and there on the bed before him lay the body of Hattie Drexler, now just bones within a tattered dress. Next to the bed, staring down at his wife's remains, stood Albert Drexler. John pointed the shotgun at Albert, who looked back at him sadly.

John thought through his next move, then grabbed his phone and headed back downstairs to grab supplies from the car.

SNSNSN

Dean gently laid Sam down on the ground and felt for a pulse but found none. Sam was pale and his lips were blue. Dean immediately began CPR on his brother, hoping it wasn't too late. _Dammit, it's NOT too late!_ he mentally yelled to Sam as he continued to try and resuscitate him. _You are not dying on me little brother. Not today. Not like this. Now breathe!_

He barely heard the sirens approaching, nor did he hear his father come up to him. "Keep working on him, Dean. Help is on the way." Right now it killed John not to stop and help Dean revive Sam but his oldest knew what he was doing and there was a job to finish. Never again were the Drexlers going to hurt his son or anyone else's ever again. Going to the trunk, he grabbed salt and the spare gas can and headed back into the house.

SNSNSN

As John reentered the bedroom, he now found Albert and Tommy standing together next to the bed, Hattie on the other side. All turned to John as he entered.

"What will happen to us now?" asked Tommy.

John wanted nothing more than to shout to Albert and Hattie that they would be spending the rest of eternity burning in hell for what they had done, but looking at Tommy – _damn he looked so much like Sam_ – he just stood quiet, unable to think of anything to say. Tommy looked first to his father then to his mother.

Albert put a hand to his son's shoulder, then turned to John.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said, as he looked at the gas can in John's hands. "I only stayed because of them."

He backed away from the bed, as did Tommy.

Hattie took a moment to look at her remains, then to John.

"I didn't know. I felt…I didn't feel different. I didn't realize." With that she too backed away from the bed.

Then one by one they each flickered, then disappeared, leaving John to salt and burn the bones, ending the nightmare once and for all.

SNSNSN

Dean continued to work on Sam, even after he felt arms pulling at him to stop. Finally he realized paramedics were trying to get to Sam to help him. As Dean backed away, his whole body shaking with fear and fatigue, he watched as they intubated his little brother and continued CPR.

A crowd had begun to form at the end of the driveway, no doubt having heard the sirens and following them to their destination. As they watched, they saw a rugged man walking out the front door of the Drexler house just as the upper floor broke out into flames. The police had arrived behind the ambulance and one officer went to John, handcuffs at the ready, while another went to Dean.

"No, don't!" John heard a woman call out, never taking his eyes off the paramedics who were working on Sam. It was Alice, her head bandaged, face bruised.

"Joe, Alan, these men have freed us. Saved us. If you have to, deal with this later, but right now let them go with their boy."

The officers looked to the crowd, who were all nodding in agreement. They backed away and John went over to Dean, who had never taken his eyes off of Sam.

The paramedics said to the Winchesters "We're ready to move. We can take one of you with us."

Dean stayed put, expecting his father would go with Sam, but John said "Go with your brother, son. I'll be right behind you."

With that, Dean climbed into the ambulance with Sam, taking his cold, still hand in his as the door shut.

John got into the Impala and followed the ambulance back down the driveway and to the hospital. The fire department had arrived to find the house completely engulfed in flames. They got ready to put it out, but paused to make sure the cursed homestead would go down once and for all.

The crowd began to disperse, heads bowed, saying nothing. All except Alice. She had noticed the silver SUV parked a few feet from her and recognized it immediately. She walked over and looked in, not terribly surprised to find three men, including Hugh Mitchell, trussed-up men inside. She smiled.

"Eric," she called out to a particularly large man who was hanging close-by in case he was needed. He had heard about the attack on Alice and had rushed to be with her at the hospital. Alice was a town treasure and he couldn't believe that anyone could raise a hand to her – and was pissed to hell about it.

"Yes, Alice?" he said, approaching her.

"Would you mind giving me a hand for a minute?"

Seeing inside the vehicle himself, Eric smiled at her. Not wanting to draw the cops' attention to the car, he casually called out to a couple of other men still within ear shot and waved them over.

From inside, Hugh looked up at Alice, noting the Cheshire Cat-sized smile she now bore and the faces of three angry looking men looking in at them.

Oh crap, he thought.

Alice backed away and looked to the house as it burned. For just a second, she could have sworn she saw the Drexler family standing together in the top left window just as the second story collapsed.

She smiled again, then frowned, then cried as she took in all that happened. All the pain that had been caused, the senseless deaths. And she cried for the innocent little boy who was now fighting for his very life.

SNSNSN

The ambulance ride seemed to be taking forever and Dean was turning inside out. Sam showed no signs of waking up, was as pale as a sheet and was still not breathing on his own.

_C'mon Sammy_, Dean silently pleaded, squeezing Sam's hand. _Don't you give up. Don't you let them win. You are Sam Winchester, goddammit, and you are not dying like this. You hear me? You are Sam Winchester and you are going to live. You are going to live._

The paramedic currently breathing for Sam via a squeeze bag heard Dean's mantra as he began speaking it aloud. Hearing the certainty in the teen's voice, she looked down at her young patient. _You hear that, kid?_ she said to herself. _Better listen to your big brother, Sam Winchester, cause he's right, you are not dying today. Not if we have anything to say about it._

She began saying it aloud to, giving an encouraging look to Dean, who smiled back. Then the third paramedic conducting CPR on Sam chimed in, too.

The rest of the way to the hospital found the entire ambulance chanting in unison:

_You are Sam Winchester and you are going to live._


	13. Aftermath

**Chapter Twelve  
**

Dean would happily take on Wendigos, werewolves, vampires, demons and any other evil creature all at once if he never had to sit in another emergency room waiting for word on the condition of his little brother.

The paramedics nearly lost Sam twice on the way to the hospital and when they arrived, doctors immediately rushed him into the back, telling Dean he'd have to remain in the waiting area. John had arrived moments later and, going to Dean, knew they were likely in for a long sit. After all, the whole hospital thing was a been-there-done-that tradition in his family and every time John swore he'd try harder to keep his boys safe.

This hadn't even been an actual hunt. John had not intentionally put his family in danger this time. It was just a case of bad luck (did the Winchesters have any other kind?) and a wrong-place-wrong-time deal. Now his youngest was fighting for his life and John wanted nothing more than to rush through the doors, sweep Sammy into his arms and tell him everything would be alright.

John looked over at Dean, who was a mess. Eyes bloodshot, hands wringing, staring blankly at the floor. John knew how incredibly serious Dean took his responsibility of protecting Sam. After all, that's what John had instilled – drilled, in fact – into his oldest practically every day since he had placed his infant son into his big brother's tiny arms the night of the fire. And he knew, as good a hunter as Dean was becoming, he would simply be lost without that key responsibility. Without Sam. And all John could do was watch it happen until they heard word otherwise on Sam's condition.

SNSNSN

Dean could feel his father's eyes upon him but couldn't bring himself to look back. The floor had his full attention at the moment and if he knew if he moved his stare to any other spot but the dirt stain before him, he'd lose the control he was barely holding onto.

He'd failed his little brother. His father could tell him otherwise but Dean knew that it was his job to watch out for Sam. To protect him, keep him safe. Sam had been so terrified as the ghost tore him away from the window. And it had taken another friggin' ghost to help Dean get to Sam. Too late.

Dean shuddered as he thought about what Sam had gone through. He himself had almost drowned once when he was six, only because he wanted to show his father how good a swimmer he was becoming but overestimated his own ability. Having gone out too far in the water, he grew tired and got a cramp and if John hadn't gotten to him in time he'd have drowned for sure.

But this was different. Sam hadn't been swimming. He'd had his head held under the water in a bathtub by a damn ghost. Freezing cold water at that. Dean shuddered again, this time with pure fury. He had seen the house burn but it just wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted nothing more than to escort Hattie and Albert Drexler to hell and introduce them to Lucifer personally.

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and finally forced himself to look up. He saw his father looking at the ER doors as a doctor walked through and approached them, her face unreadable.

"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," John said, shaking her hand. "My son, Dean."

"Hi, Dean. I'm Dr. Wolcott. I'm in charge of your brother's case."

"How is he?" Dean asked with baited breath.

"Why don't we sit down?" she motioned to the chairs and all sat.

"Sam's alive. Let me start with that. It was touch and go for a while. There was some residual water in his lungs but it was manageable. He was also slightly hypothermic, which actually may have helped save his life. Hypothermia, you may know, tends to slow body function, so even though Sam had been deprived of oxygen, blood flow was slowed and therefore less damage may have been caused."

"May have been?" Are you saying he could be brain damaged?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately we won't know anything more until he wakes up and that may not be for a while. Sam's been through a lot and we have to keep an eye out for any adverse reactions like bronchitis and pneumonia."

"Is that likely?" asked John.

"Well, his weakened condition means his immunity is compromised. But we're keeping a very close watch on him, giving him antibiotics, and he hasn't shown any signs of fever or infection, which is good considering."

She took a moment to let the information sink in for the two worried men before continuing.

"The next few days will tell us more. Don't be surprised if he sleeps through most of it. Nearly drowning takes a lot out of a person, so you can imagine what it can do to a little boy. But from what I heard from the paramedics, you've got a fighter on your hands. Let's just wait and see, okay?"

"Can we see him?" Dean asked, not sure if the news was good or bad, just that Sam was alive.

"Absolutely. Follow me." Dr. Wolcott said with a kind smile.

She led them through the doors and down the hall to the Pediatric ICU, explaining that even though Sam was now breathing on his own, they were keeping him in an isolation tent for the next few hours till his immunity strengthened.

As they approached his bed, Dean and John braced themselves against what they saw. Their little Sammy, white as a sheet, still as a statue, numerous tubes and IVs attached to his thin body. Each man took a seat on either side of the bed and reached through two holes in the tent, taking Sam's hands in theirs. Hands that Dean noticed were finally warm. He watched as Sam's chest rose and fell steadily, the only movement he offered at the moment. Dean was thankful to see it but wouldn't truly relax until he saw his brother wake up.

_Don't keep us hanging here too long, kid_, Dean thought, squeezing Sam's hand. _Take all the time you need to recover, but give us a sign that you're at least okay, okay? _

And there the Winchesters sat. And waited.

SNSNSN

The next morning Sam had been moved to a private room in the children's ward. He was slowly but steadily improving and the oxygen tent had been removed, leaving Sam with a canula under his nose to continue to help him breath. Dr. Wolcott had been doing regular checks on his lungs and said that other than a slight wheezing she was pleased with his progress.

Dean was proud. He knew Sam would fight back. The kid had a strength beyond his years, strength he hadn't even begun to tap into yet. Now if he would just wake up…

John had gone to get coffee and make some calls to let their friends know how Sam was doing. Dean, who had tried to stay awake for any stirring from Sam, had finally succumbed to his own fatigue, his head falling onto the side of Sam's bed.

Suddenly Dean felt Sam shift and heard a slight whimper. _ Nightmare_, Dean figured. _No surprise there. Poor kid was probably gonna be plagued with those for months._

As Sam's distress increased, Dean began to stroke his hair and "shhh" him soothingly. But that only seemed to agitate Sam more. Dean tried harder to quiet Sam, whispering that he was okay and safe, constantly stroking Sam's hair, but the more Dean did to soothe him, the more upset Sam became, though he never fully woke. The heart monitor started beeping like crazy and a nurse came running in.

"What happened?" she asked, trying herself to quiet the near-hysterical boy.

"I don't know…" Dean said, shaking, backing away from the bed. "I think he was having a nightmare and I tried to calm him down but everything I did just made him freak out more."

Dr. Wolcott came in and looked at Sam, then to Dean, who had paled terribly and was visibly shaking. She went to Sam, who was struggling against the nurse, and injected a syringe into his arm. "It's okay, Sam," she said to the now-quieting boy. To Dean she said "I've given him a sedative which should help him fall back asleep." Walking to Dean, she saw him retreat further away from Sam. "This is to be expected, Dean. Your brother has suffered a great trauma, but it's nothing you did. He just needs time to find his bearings. You did nothing wrong."

But she could see the teen wasn't buying it and as John stepped into the room to find the commotion surrounding his youngest, Dean ran past him in a flurry, to the stairs to the front exit and out of the hospital to the Impala. John looked out Sam's window in time to watch the black car tear out of the parking lot.

SNSNSN

Arriving at what was left of the still-smoldering Drexler house, Dean got out of the Impala and ran at the house screaming.

"YOU SONOFABITCH! YOU DID THIS TO HIM! YOU BROKE HIM!"

Dean picked up a thin board and began striking out at the ruins.

"I CAN'T EVEN COMFORT MY OWN BROTHER! YOU STOLE THAT FROM ME, FROM US! HE'S SUFFERING, ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF YOU! I CAN'T HELP HIM BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID! HIS SENSE OF SAFETY, OF TRUST, YOU TOOK THAT AWAY FROM HIM! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL, YOU BASTARDS!!

Exhausted and out of breath, he chucked the board into the ashes and collapsed to the ground, consumed by sobs and agony. Dean knew he could never stroke Sam's hair that way again because he figured that's what Hattie had to have done to make Sam freak out like he had. And that was Dean's, dammit. That had always been his way of comforting Sam when the boy had a nightmare. Sam would always lean into Dean's hand and instantly relax, but now he'd always be reminded of what had happened to him and Dean couldn't have more hatred and pain over such a terrible loss. True Sammy was still alive, but that precious connection was now forever tainted.

And Dean cried.

SNSNSN

It was several hours before Dean made it back to the hospital. Each step back to Sam's room became more difficult. All he wanted was to take Sam into his arms and rock him and tell him he'd be okay but Dean knew the kid was going to need time. And there was no way Dean was going to push, even if it meant keeping his distance.

As he got to Sam's room, he saw his father sitting beside the bed flipping through a magazine. Sam was still deeply asleep, probably from the sedative, but Dean had to admit he'd gotten some color back.

John stood and walked over to Dean, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, son?"

"Yeah," Dean half-smiled, glancing briefly at his father before turning his eyes downward. "How is he?"

"Sleeping still. Dr, Wolcott says his lungs sound clear and he should come around anytime. He's gonna be okay, Dean. We got lucky."

"We've always been lucky with Sammy," Dean said, not caring how truly corny it sounded.

"Why don't you sit with him for a while. I've got some more calls to make."

"Oh, I don't…" Dean stammered, backing up ever so slightly.

"Dean, go sit with your brother." John said, giving the order as gently as possible. He knew Sam wasn't the only one who needed to heal at the moment and if he had to pull rank to get Dean to comply, so be it.

Dean took a deep breath and walked tentatively to the bed, sitting down quietly but not reaching out.

John sighed, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

SNSNSN

The next two days left Dean more and more miserable despite the fact that his brother's condition was steadily improving. Every few hours Sam would stir, obviously haunted by memories and/or nightmares, and Dean had tried numerous different ways to comfort him: a touch to the chest or shoulder, then to the leg, then just to the arm, then the hand and finally with just words. Nothing Dean had done his entire life to alleviate Sam's distress now seemed to work, and it was breaking his heart.

His father encouraged him to keep trying, knowing how vital his sons' bond was to their shared existence. Offering his own tentative comfort to Sam now and again, he more often stepped back, giving Dean time to reach Sam and for Sam to recognize his brother's touch, trust it wasn't anyone trying to hurt him again, and accept Dean's tender contact with the same trust and love he always had. John never wavered to believe this was something Sam – always the most emotionally open of the three – could do, even while unconscious.

SNSNSN

It was quiet, except for some kind of beeping. And whatever he was lying on was soft but not terribly so. And something was tickling his nose. And as he opened his eyes slightly, he noticed how bright it was. Lots of white. _What the hell?_

Sam opened his eyes a bit more, trying to mentally clear the cobwebs out of his brain and the blur out of his eyes. _Can't I just wake up with a clear head for once?_ he thought. His peripheral vision showed him a window to the right and lots of equipment to his left. That's all he needed to know. _Hospital._ He'd been in enough to recognize the environment. But wait, if he was in a hospital, then he was…alive. Not drowned. Not dead. No longer in the Drexler house. He was safe.

_Dean._

Sam turned his head and sure enough, there his brother sat beside his bed in a rather uncomfortable looking chair, fast asleep. Sam tried to call out to him but couldn't yet find his voice. He cleared his throat, which hurt a bit. _Ouch_, he thought. _Let's not do that a lot. _ He willed his hand to move and reach out to Dean but he was so tired and just wanted to go back to sleep. He wasn't sure exactly how Dean and his dad had gotten him out of the house, but he was very grateful. He knew they'd save him. With a smile and a last look at Dean, he let his eyes close and fell back into sleep.

SNSNSN

_He was in the tub, being held under the water. He could see the distorted face of Hattie up through the water and pleaded with his eyes for her to release him. He couldn't breathe and was desperate to do so. No! his mind screamed. Let me go! Please!_

"Sammy…"

_Sam thought he heard Dean's voice but it was so far away. And he still struggled to breathe._

"Sammy, wake up. It's okay, wake up."

_Dean's voice was closer now, but he couldn't feel him. If he were here he'd feel Dean's hand on his head, in his hair. But there was no contact. Only his voice._

"Sam, wake up now. You're safe."

Sam stopped struggling and opened his eyes to find Dean leaning over him with a concerned look on his face. Sitting up, Sam launched himself into Deans' arms and clung to him fiercely.

Dean, taken aback by Sam's quick embrace, hesitated for a moment but then hugged his beloved little brother back, rocking him, rubbing his back and yes, eventually stroking his shaggy hair to calm him. And Sam never flinched once.

Feeling Dean hug him back, Sam finally let go of all the fear, all the pain of the last few days and openly cried into his brother's chest. And Dean let him. He heard the familiar "shhhs" and felt the familiar strokes of his hair, and Sam at last felt home, safe.

John walked in just then and with tears in his eyes, went to the bed and embraced both his sons. It was a rare moment for the Winchesters – they weren't exactly big huggers – but no way were any of them letting go anytime soon.


	14. Let's Hit The Road!

**Epilogue**

Twenty-four hours later Sam Winchester was a very happy young man. He was getting released from the hospital, they were leaving town, the spirits were gone, he had his family and he was alive. What more could a kid ask for? _Well, a kid living one freaky-ass, as-far-as-you-can-get-from-normal life_, Sam smiled inwardly.

Dean had gone to their house to pack up their things and his dad was out taking care of the hospital bill. _Wonder what alias it is this week_, Sam smiled again. He often felt guilty about the credit card and insurance fraud they were constantly committing, especially when it hurt nice people like Dr. Wolcott. But on the other hand, this town owed him big time, so he'd let the guilt slide this once.

SNSNSN

John walked up to the admissions desk and took his wallet out. He hated that the little savings he had would have to go to pay the bill, putting the rest on their emergency card, but he had no choice. In their panic to get Sam help they had used their real names. Richard Ricardo's insurance card would just have to wait.

The sooner they settled up, the sooner he could get his boys out of town. He had gone back out to the Drexler house hoping the SUV was still there but not surprised when it wasn't. John was sure it wouldn't be hard to track down. He made a plan to take Dean and Sam a few towns over, get them settled in a motel, then come back and finish the job. He fully intended to make good on his promise to Hugh and the other men for what they had nearly cost his family. He'd just have to do it real subtle-like.

The receptionist came up just then and as John went to hand her his card, she stopped him.

"Your son's bills have all been taken care of, Mr. Winchester."

John couldn't hide his surprise. "By who?"

The girl handed him a small envelope and smiled, then went about her duties.

John walked over to the seats nearby and opened the letter.

_ Mr. Winchester:_

_ I cannot convey to you enough how truly sorry I am for all that you and your family have suffered at the hands of our town. Despite our fear and desperation, it offers no excuse for causing your son harm._

_ You needn't worry about Hugh Mitchell and the other men. We take care of our own here…in more ways than one. I can assure you they will never be able to hurt anyone ever again._

_ I have mourned the loss of my friends the Drexlers for so long, and I am grateful their spirits are at last at rest, thanks to you. I regret knowing Albert's actions – Hattie's too, perhaps – may cost their souls dearly. But wherever their fates lie, I can only hope Tommy finds peace among the angels._

_ Your son's bills have been settled. Again, I know it's a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but one I hope you will accept._

_ We're good people, Mr. Winchester, I promise you. I pray in time you'll be able to forgive us for failing to stop certain actions in time._

_ God bless you, Dean and especially Sam._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Alice Tilberman_

John folded the note back up and put it in his pocket, glancing down the hallway toward Sam's room. He appreciated Alice and the town making the effort – somehow he got the feeling Hugh and the others weren't getting off any easier with them that they would have with John – but thinking back on the past few days and what he had nearly lost, he was going to hold onto his malice for a while longer.

SNSNSN

On their way out of town, Sam noticed from the back seat the various townspeople watching them leave. Though they were again staring, it was different. The stares weren't haunting and full of shock as they had been before. Now they were looks of sadness and regret, and perhaps a little gratitude.

Sam was glad to be able to see David before leaving. John had wanted to get out of town as soon as possible but Sam had insisted. He needed to see for himself that the boy was okay. And David did seem alright. He honestly couldn't remember much of what had happened, which was probably a good thing. But Sam could tell David would be haunted by the experience for a long time. He knew they both would.

But Sam was okay. He had Dean and his father – well, mostly Dean, if things fell back into form as they inevitably would – to help him through it. Shifting to make himself more comfortable in the back seat, he heard Dean tell his Dad to pull over. He looked up to see Dean lean over the seat to address him.

"Wanna sit up front for a while?"

Sam was truly shocked. "In your whole life you have never asked me that," Sam said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yeah, well, I didn't realize just how freakishly tall you've gotten 'til I was hauling your ass out of that house," Dean said, forcing a little more snark and humor into his delivery to mask his own bad memory of that moment.

John sat looking straight ahead but smiling.

"So?" Dean asked.

Sam said nothing at first, then "Yeah, okay. I could sit up there for a while."

With a nod, Dean got out just as Sam did and as they passed each other, Sam gave him a tell-tale smile.

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean gave his hair an affectionate ruffle and climbed into the back seat, Sam into the front. As John set out again, Sam heard Dean call from the back.

"But don't even THINK of changing the music, Geekboy!"

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

"Boys, what have I always told you…"

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look and smile over the bench seat and said in unison:

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!"

The End

**Author's Note:** Well, that's it! My first-ever story completed! Thanks again for all your kind words and support.

Already working on my next adventure, but please have patience cause it's gearing up to be a doozy! Will look forward to reading all your comments once again! Till then, Blessed Be!


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